Logically A Father
by chaoticsanity
Summary: A monumental discovery about Spock and his history leads to many emotional and unemotional encounters within the Enterprise, affecting more than just Spock. My first fanfic, but I love writing, and Star Trek, so give it a try. Please read and review!
1. An Emotional Discovery

Remember guys, I don't own Star Trek! Everybody belongs to thier proper peoples, except for the characters I create. This story came from my brain and is totally for fun. Just enjoy, kay?

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><p>Captain's Log: Stardate- 2342.7;<p>

The Enterprise has been given the task of checking on the colonized planet Vítron in the Omega star system. A simple routine checkup if it weren't for the fact that our patients are, in fact, Vulcan. And though Spock would dismiss me in an instant, I can tell that my half-Vulcan first officer is feeling some excitement in knowing he will soon be reunited with people of his own kind.

"Captain," a sharp voice pierced Jim Kirk's room as he finished his transmission.

"Kirk here, what is it Sulu?"

"Captain, we're now entering orbit around Vítron." the bright-eyed man said from behind the controls.

"Alright, I'll be up in just a moment." Kirk clicked Sulu off of his computer screen and jumped out of his chair, pulling down his golden Captain's shirt as he walked briskly out of his quarters. He walked down the halls of his starship with pride, loving her more than he could any woman. His ship was his life. As soon as Kirk stepped off of the elevator onto the bridge, he made his was over to Spock; instinctively, like it came almost naturally.

"Anything to report, Spock?" he asked like so many times before.

"Captain, there seems to be some sort of internal disturbance within the planets core." Spock turned to face Jim with his ever-present look of curiosity, his slanted eyebrows forever burrowed next to each other.

"Could it possibly be dangerous for us, or the inhabitants?" Jim asked slowly.

"Well, that's the other thing- Jim, there's no one on the planet." Jim looked at Spock as though he had been slapped.

"There's no one on the planet?" he repeated, his mind whizzing. "Vítron was colonized by the Vulcans only a few years ago, how could the place be empty?"

"Well Captain, there seems to be only one life force coming from the-" Spock's explanation was lost when the ship suddenly jerked and bucked, throwing everyone on board around like rag dolls. The moment the shaking subsided, everyone raced back to their posts, with the exception of Jim, who raced back to Spock.

"Spock what the devil was that." he asked, breathless and aggravated. The unnerved first officer turned to his scanners for but a moment when he had all the information he needed.

"Captain, what we just felt were very powerful seismic waves caused by a very large, underground volcano located within the core of the planet. It also seems to be the disturbance I picked up earlier. The volcano will erupt shortly, destroying all of Vítron with it." The words seemed so cool and collected coming from the unemotional Spock that for a moment Jim didn't believe him.

"How long do we have?" Jim asked quietly.

"Minutes, Captain."

"Spock, you said there was someone on that planet. Where?" Before Spock could reply, he was interrupted by Uhura, the communication officer.

"Captain," she cried, "we have a distress signal coming from the planet, and a message."

"Speakers, now." From the speakers located in the Captain's chair came a short and simple message: 'Please, starship, save me...' Static buzzed where the message ended. Jim turned to Spock while the red alert flashed in the background.

"Spock, lock on those coordinates and sent them to the transporter room- now!" Spock's fingers flew as he found the precise mark.

"Sent, Captain." Jim raced back to his chair, and barked into his speaker, "Scotty, get that person on board!"

"Aye-aye, Captain, we're bringing 'em in!" the Scottish bred man yelled back.

"Sulu," Kirk said, determined, setting himself calmly in his chair, "prepare to leave orbit at maximum warp."

"Aye-aye, Captain." Sulu replied, flexing his fingers over the helm. Kirk clicked a button on his chair, opening the communication between himself and Scotty.

"Scotty have you got them yet?" Kirk asked, worry creeping in his voice.

"We're pulling them in. Something is affecting our system.." Scotty's strained voice drifted off into silence until he shouted: "Got 'em, got 'em, Captain!"

"Sulu, pull out now!" Kirk shouted, and without hesitation, Sulu shot the Enterprise away from the doomed planet at the same time the red hot magma erupted from within Vítron's core, leaving the planet nothing more than piles of rock and dust. Everyone on the bridge sighed a unison breath of relief, all those except for Mr. Spock, who sat staring at the screen with a feeling only known as sadness. And although many times he refused his human half, Spock could not control the feelings of despair he felt deep within him for the fellow Vulcans that had been lost. His silent mourning was cut short by the sound of Kirk's voice:

"Scotty, are they alright?"

"Captain," Scotty began slowly, confusion merged in his voice, "I think you'd better get down here." Kirk but glanced at Spock and the both of them were in the elevator on their way to the transporter room. It was like a blur until they entered the transporter room, where shock stopped them short. There, standing weakly on the transporter, was a girl, no more than fourteen years old. She steeped feebly down the steps, looked at Kirk, and bowed her head, her long, Vulcan ears easily noticeable. She raised her head and whispered, "Thank you, Captain." Kirk walked slowly towards her, while Spock stayed behind, studying her, as though she were vaguely familiar. She looked over at Spock, and her young face twisted into one of confusion and pain.

"Spock?" she whispered. Spock looked at her, and it finally registered in his mind of who she was. The always-in-control-of-his-emotions half-Vulcan looked at her in shock and bewilderment.

"Sòra?" he breathed. She cried out in pain, and passed out on the floor, the agony and exhaustion of the ordeal finally setting in. Before anyone could move, Spock bolted past Kirk and cradled the young Vulcan in his arms. Kirk and Scotty looked at each other in confusion; they were not expecting such an emotional outburst from such an unemotional man. They could hear Spock whispering to her, pleading for her to wake up; to be okay. Spock turned sharply to Kirk, and shouted, "We need McCoy, now!" His face was contorted into fright and desperation.

"Spock, we'll take her there now. Pick her up, come on." He patted Spock on the back as he gently picked up the girl, who seemed smaller than she did before. Spock darted out of the room with the girl in his arms, heading for McCoy as Kirk and Scotty looked at each other, confused beyond imagine. The two men followed Spock closely as he marched to sick bay. The trio barged in on a surprised McCoy and Nurse Chapel.

"Well who the devil is this Vulcan?" McCoy asked as Spock gently laid the girl on a bed.

"This Vulcan," Spock began with clenched teeth, "is your new patient." McCoy looked at Spock with question in his eyes, then at Jim, but turned back to the young girl and began inspecting her. Kirk came up behind Spock and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Spock," he said slowly, "is she family?" Spock took a deep breath as he re-hid his emotions from the surrounding people.

"Yes, yes you could say that." Spock whispered. He looked back at the girl; Sòra, and watched her carefully.

"What do you mean?" Jim asked.

"She is," Spock stopped as he looked back at his captain; his friend; "she is my daughter."


	2. A Vulcan's Story

The whole room lay in a sickly silence. Kirk, Scotty, and McCoy stood frozen, staring at Spock in utter shock.

"She's your bloody daughter?" Scotty whispered harshly.

"A daughter, Spock?" McCoy barked after Scotty, disdain in voice. "How can you possibly be telling me that-"

"Bones," Kirk interrupted strictly, "enough." McCoy's face was pink with emotion, but he stopped talking and returned to tending to Sòra. Spock stood over her, refusing to look anyone in the eye. The room was once again plunged into an uneasy silence.

"There's some, um, damage to her respiratory system, a cut of some sort on her left lung." McCoy said quietly; slowly. "Other than that, and some minor scratches, she seems perfectly fine- for a Vulcan, of course." The whole room looked down at her. She was breathing slowly, her purple dress rising with her jagged breaths. Now that Kirk could look at her up close, he was beginning to see Spock in her delicate features. Even as she was sleeping, her diagonal eyebrows were furrowed close to each other; much like her father's. She had short, straight, midnight black hair that swept along her pointed ears.

"Is there anything you can do for her?" Kirk asked, staring at Spock.

"I could give her a pain reliever, but her lungs are in a very delicate place, due to her Vulcan physiology. Her cut has to mend itself-if it can. I'll have to keep an eye on it." McCoy looked up at Spock awkwardly, and muttered, "I'm- I'm sorry, Spock." Spock nodded his head slightly, his face void of all emotion.

"Thank you, Doctor, but I'm sure she'll have no trouble recovering. We Vulcan's have a tolerance for pain."

"But, she's your daughter?" Kirk questioned.

"Yes, Captain." Spock replied, his eyebrow raised ever-so-slightly.

"Well, doesn't that mean she has human blood in her as well? Since her father is half-human?" Kirk's realization hit Spock hard. He felt humiliation in forgetting that very important fact, and terror in knowing that his daughter would experience pain he'd never known of before, all the while remaining the cool, nonchalant mask of logic.

"Doctor," he said quietly, "please give her the painkillers. She is quite young, and combined with her human side, she may not be able to control the pain-" As if on cue, Sòra winced as she began to awake. McCoy found a shot, and quickly gave it to Sòra, watching her fade back into slumber. Kirk turned back to Spock, and looked at him hardly.

"Spock," he said quietly, "how is this possible? Is she T'Pring's?" Spock sighed quietly, and turned to Kirk.

"It was fifteen years ago, when I was under the command of Captain Pike. He granted me what he called 'a well deserved shore leave to Vulcan.' We were at a nearby star base, so I left to visit family. While there, I met with T'Pring. She came up with the logical conclusion that, if I shouldn't return, we should have a child to carry on our line." Spock stopped abruptly, and looked over at Sòra. "I, however, was unaware our child was on Vítron."

"How can you logically have a child?" McCoy muttered, shaking his head. "A child is a symbol of love, not an instrument to protect property!" McCoy's emotional outburst was greeted with Spock's hand gripping McCoy's shirt tightly, twisting the fabric so forcefully that he ended up nose to nose with the unstable Vulcan. McCoy's eyes bulged as Kirk grabbed Spock's shoulder, coaxing him to let the doctor go. Kirk was well aware of the immense strength a Vulcan possessed, not to mention an emotionally unstable one who had just found his long-lost daughter. Spock let the blue material go, and stood for a moment, shame filling him like an unknown poison.

"I'm, sorry for that display, Doctor." Spock muttered, regaining his cool persona.

"No, no, it's fine," the Doctor replied with a wave of his hand, "it's nice to know you care."

"Why was she on that planet?" Kirk inquired, breaking the uncomfortable make-up between the two. His question wasn't directed towards anyone specific, but everyone in the room knew what he wondered. All four men became silent, puzzled for a moment, until a small voice answered Kirk's question.

"I was sent there." The men, who had turned their back on the seemingly sleeping girl, now turned back to her, as they realized she was the one who had spoken. She was sitting upright, her hands resting gracefully on her lap. Her bright green eyes were wide and mature, boring holes into all of them. Her piercing gaze washed over them all, lingering a bit on Spock before finally resting on Kirk. Kirk walked up to her, his eyes full of questions, but he settled on a simple one:

"What did you say?" She smirked at him, something rather uncommon for a Vulcan, but soon reverted to the logical face that Kirk knew all too well.

"I said I was sent there, and that I was." she claimed, rather nonchalantly, as if they were discussing the weather. The others made their way over to her as well, watching her like hawks. She looked around sick bay, absorbing everything she saw.

"Quite a nice ship, Captain, from what I can see." she said again, refocusing her attention on Kirk. "And once again, thank you," her voice lowered considerably, "for saving me." Kirk found himself smiling as the young Vulcan dropped her gaze.

"Don't mention it." he said causally, although his voice suddenly changed to a more serious tone, "Although, I would like to know what a young girl was doing on a doomed planet."

"Trust me, Captain, we did not know about the volcano until a few weeks ago." she insisted, staring at the gentlemen around her. "There were much worse things to worry about, anyway." she whispered. Sòra jerked her head up, and sighed. "I suppose then, I should tell you my story." she said calmly.

"Not if I have anything to say about it." McCoy stated stubbornly. "I gave you a sedative that should've kept you out for at least five hours. Not to mention you should be lying down, you suffered a serious injury to-" Sòra held up her hand, signaling McCoy to stop.

"That sedative was for humans, therefore issuing little effect on me. And I can assure you Doctor, I am fine. To feel pain is an emotion, and Vulcans do not practice emotion." Sòra explained calmly.

"My god, she is your daughter." McCoy muttered to Spock, rubbing his temples in frustration. Spock merely raised an eyebrow. Sòra turned back to the Captain and began her story.

"As you must already know, I am the daughter of the Vulcan T'Pring and," Sòra's voice faltered for only a moment before she finished; "Spock. When I was around eight, my mother informed me that she was released from her vow to Spock, therefore, releasing her from me. Around that time, offers were made to send me to our new colony- Vítron. Being the logical woman she was, my mother sent me. Since then, I have been living there with other children and what you humans call 'foster parents.'" Sòra stopped and waited for Kirk's inevitable questions. Someone beat him to the punch, though.

"Your mother sent 'cha out alone to a whole new planet?" came the incredulous cry of Scotty. "At that age?"

"It was the logical thing to do," Sòra explained, "I was no longer useful, so I was sent off." This time, it was McCoy's voice that sounded incredulous.

"No longer useful?" he cried, disgust and shock etched onto his face, "You were a child! What right did she have-"

"She had every right, Doctor." Spock's voice interrupted. "After I had released her, Sòra no longer became a concern of T'Pring's." Sòra shook her head in agreement, but Kirk noticed a flicker of pain on her face when Spock mentioned that she wasn't a concern. It was at that moment, however, that Kirk remembered something he'd been wondering earlier.

"How is it that you two knew each other? Knew who you were? As far as I know, Spock only went back to Vulcan once more due to the Pon Farr, and he never left our sight." he asked, thinking back to the incident in the transporter room.

"Well, before I left for Vítron, I asked my mother what Spock looked like, in case I ever met him. She found it illogical that I would, but she did in fact tell me." She looked over at Spock, who stared back. "Vulcan children also have this extraordinary way of telling who their parents are, something to do with glands of some sort." She waved her statement off and turned away from Spock, regaining eye contact with Kirk.

"Anyway, once we settled on Vítron, things ran smoothly for many years. Then, things started happening. It came." Despite her Vulcan heritage, Sòra shuddered. Kirk placed a hand on her arm, forcing her to look at him.

"What came?" Sòra looked at him for a moment, then sighed.

"A terrible disease. It ravaged us, killing the adults first, leaving the children to themselves. As one of the oldest, I quarantined the others into one of the radio and distress stations. They were young, and as a result, not in control of their emotions. It only took a whimper from one of them, and they all started crying. Then, one night, they ran out, in search of their parents." Sòra stopped as a lump in her throat formed. "I learned the previous morning that the disease was viral, and also easily contagious." she said, barely above a whisper. Everyone heard her, though. Kirk watched her through sad eyes, as did McCoy and Scotty. Spock simply stared, though no one would've known that below his logical exterior, deep in the recesses of his human mind, he was dying to hug his daughter; to comfort her. "I was then the only one left." she began again, this time with a simple voice. "That was a week ago. I noticed your ship on the radar just today, and the rest you know." she finished. Kirk took a moment, but finally said, "Do you know how the disease killed?" Sòra thought for a moment before responding.

"I did manage to find out that it caused unbearable pain to the respiratory system that ended with it being so torn and shredded that people finally just died. If I remember correctly, the first signs were breathing troubles and.." she trailed off, her mind trying to remember. "A cut!" she finally recalled, "Yes, that was it, a cut on the lungs that appeared on every victim." McCoy paled at her words, but no one else seemed to notice. Kirk nodded his head slightly, and looked back at her.

"Thank you. We'll leave you here to rest, but if you need anything, just call." he smiled. She bowed her head respectively, and laid back on the soft bed, refusing to let the pain she was feeling in her side show. Kirk ushered them all out of the room, and into the hallway. Scotty mumbled his respects and went back to his post, leaving Jim, Bones, and Spock together.

"Do you think this disease could be a problem?" Kirk asked Spock, a frown on his face. As the two continued their conversation on the new threat, McCoy watched them in shock.

"Are you two idiots?" he hissed, taking them both by surprise.

"Excuse me, Bones?" Jim said, an eyebrow raised and suspicion in his mind.

"Did you not hear what she said?" the Doctor continued, "A sign of that damned disease she was talking about was a cut on the lungs. A cut, Jim! I found a cut on her left lung earlier, which only means-"

"Which only means she has it." Spock finished, the slightest bit of concern washing over his eyes. Jim thought for a moment, staring at McCoy.

"Bones," he finally began, "I need you to find out everything you possibly can about this disease, whether it be from the computers or Sòra. We still don't know if this thing only affects Vulcans, and if it does, well," Jim's voice dropped, "she might just have a chance." Bones nodded slowly, and turned back into his office, prepared to save this girl. Kirk turned back to Spock, who stood slack-jawed and limp.

"Come on, Spock, there's nothing we can do here." he said quietly, and escorted the still dazed Vulcan back to the bridge, were Kirk plotted a course for the nearest star base. McCoy stumbled back into sick bay and was quickly greeted by an agitated Nurse Chapel, who had been listening to their conversation.

"Doctor, did you hear what Sòra said, earlier? About the cut? We need to-" her ramblings were cut short by McCoy's harsh voice.

"I know what she said," he scolded, "and so do the Captain and," he swallowed hardly, "Spock. Now, start searching the computers for diseases, requirements: Respiratory failure, laceration to the lungs, affecting Vulcans. Well?" he snapped, as Nurse Chapel jumped from her stupor and quickly went to work. McCoy walked over to the patients room, and leaned against the doorway, watching a sleeping Sòra.

"There'd better be a cure." McCoy whispered, staring at the girl who reminded him so much of a stubborn, thick-headed Vulcan who he'd grown to care for. He sighed and returned to Nurse Chapel and the computer, and began research of his own about the mysterious disease that threatened to claim another victim.


	3. Something He Can't Give

"Spock. Spock, can you hear me?"

Spock turned his head towards his Captain, who'd obviously been trying to talk to him for a few minutes.

"I asked you if you were alright." Kirk explained to his first-officer as he leaned against the railing that separated the two.

"Of course, I'm perfectly fine, Captain." Spock replied rather nonchalantly, returning his gaze to his scanners.

"Spock," Kirk said in a hushed tone, "are you sure? She is your daughter. And she might be dying." Spock twitched at his words, but looked back at him holding his emotions in behind his unagitated visage.

"Captain, I am well aware of the risk that she faces. There's no need for this emotional comfort you're offering." he said calmly. Kirk stared at Spock for a moment before offering a sad smile and a hand on his shoulder.

"You're always welcome to go to her, if you want." Jim gave his friend a squeeze and returned to his chair. Spock turned back to his scanners, trying to quell the emotions that were writhing inside of him, while hushed whispers spread throughout the ship of the Vulcan who now had a daughter, and who so readily abandoned her.

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><p>Sòra awoke with a fright. She could see them, her fellow people, screaming in pain as the disease tore at their bodies. Sweat dripped off of her wrinkled forehead as she tried to control her breathing. Nurse Chapel was at her side at an instance, placing a firm but gentle hand on her forearm.<p>

"Are you alright?" she asked concernedly, "You must have been having a nightmare." Sòra looked at her curiously, as though she didn't understand her concern.

"I am, fine." Sòra mustered quietly. She sat up slowly while a still suspicious Nurse Chapel backed away. Sòra glanced up at her.

"Thank you for being concerned, but there is no need, Nurse." she said calmly. Nurse Chapel smiled, despite the girl's claim.

"Please, dear, call me Christine." she said sweetly. Sòra looked at her, her slanted eyebrows digging closer to each other as she tried to understand her kindness. A flicker of pain shot across Christine's face as she remembered the danger the young half-Vulcan was in. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Christine finally sighed and placed a hand on the girl's shoulder.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to call me." she said, and turned back to the next room, leaving Sòra alone with her thoughts. So many things raced through the young Vulcan's mind. Christine's compasssion, the death of her people, her...her father. Sòra felt her mind spinning as she tried to come up with a logical explanation for the sudden swarm of emotions that resided within her. It wasn't before long, however, that her equations were interrupted by excruciating pain radiating from her left side. Years of vigorous training to expel any sort of emotion were lost as Sòra let out a bloodcurdling scream of agony. A thoroughly disgruntled Doctor and Nurse bolted into the room, and were greeted by the sight of their young patient convulsing on her bed. As Christine struggled to keep the girl down, McCoy hurriedly found a tranquillizer that could knock out ten Vulcans and administered it to her. As the both of them struggled to regain their breath, Sòra trembled back into a sleep filled oblivion.

"Nurse," McCoy panted, "get the Captain down here now."

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><p>Jim sat quietly on his captain's chair and watched the stars zoom by him. His mind was racing faster than warp speed ever dreamed of. Thoughts of Sòra, of Spock, of every other Vulcan out there that could possibly be affected by this disease entered his mind and never left. What if this disease could harm humans too? What if Sòra died? Kirk shuddered involuntarily at this thought. He'd just met the girl, but if anything happened to her, he felt as though it would be his fault. And if that's what he felt, he couldn't imagine how her father felt. Kirk's gaze wandered over to Spock, who still sat stiffly in his chair, watching over the scanners. A light beep from his chair interrupted him, though.<p>

"Captain, you're needed here, now." Christine's rushed voice called. Everyone on the silent bridge heard her, and they all could guess what she was talking about, for everyone on board had heard the news. Spock had a daughter. And something seemed to be wrong with her. Although the message had called for only Kirk, it was both he and Spock who hurriedly made their way to sick bay. They arrived to see a seemingly peaceful Sòra sleeping on her bed with a somewhat out of breath Doctor sitting next to her. Bones looked up at both of them, and they noticed a long gash on the side of his face; drops of blood leaking from it. Jim raced over to his friend, and brought him to his feet with a hefty pull.

"Bones what happened?" he asked worriedly as Spock walked over to them as well, his eyes never once leaving his daughter. Bones let out a nasally laugh and glanced over at Sòra.

"She did this." he said, motioning towards his cut. "She woke up and started screaming like the devil was after her. When Nurse Chapel and I tried to subdue her, she put up a pretty vicious fight." He chuckled again, returning his gaze to Kirk. "She's a tough one, I'll give her that." Suddenly, his face became more solemn, and he stared at the two men before him with renewed determination. "She's getting worse, Jim." he said bluntly. "We've made some progress with a possible disease, but if we can't find an antidote, she'll.." McCoy trailed off, unwilling to finish his sentence, for he, just like the captain, had grown to care for the girl.

"She'll die." came the voice of Spock. McCoy and Kirk looked at him with a mixture of sympathy and revulsion at his blatant remark, however, they were both shocked at his next statement. "We'll not let that happen." Spock finished, looking at McCoy and then Kirk before turning to the next room to search the computers. Bones and Jim looked at each other with a smile and a regenerated hopefulness before following the Vulcan in his search. Once the three of them were firmly placed around the computer, they began researching where McCoy left off.

"Christine and I have narrowed it down to three possible diseases," McCoy began as he started up the computer monitor. Kirk watched eagerly as the Doctor scanned his results. "Well, one already has a cure," he said a matter-of-factly, "and the other doesn't even affect Vulcans, which leaves-"

"The last one." Kirk finished, amazed at the Doctor's productivity. Bones smiled, despite the situation they were in.

"Yes, the last one. Also known as.. pnvèmones dolofónes; the lung killer. It was an ancient disease, thought to be extinct."

"Apparently it's made a comeback." Spock said with the raise of an eyebrow.

"It has," the Doctor replied grimly, "and it fits all of the qualifications."

"Sòra said the disease was contagious; how?" Kirk asked worriedly as he thought of his crew. He hadn't quarantined the young girl, but if it was necessary to protect his crew, well, he wouldn't have an option.

"I don't know," McCoy said with the shake of his head, "but it only affects Vulcans; it's like it was designed for them." he said, picking up on the worry Jim was feeling. "If anything, the only person in danger would be.." McCoy trailed off again as the realization finally hit him. "Spock." The news of his danger was met with an upturned eyebrow. McCoy and Kirk looked at Spock in horror as the thought of him dying passed through their minds.

"Until I figure out how the disease is spread, I don't want you near her, Spock." McCoy stated firmly. "For God's sake, you might already have it!" He threw his hands up in an exasperated sigh. Jim looked over at his half-human friend, who seemed to be contemplating the exact risk he faced. In reality, Spock was struggling with the news of no longer being able to see his daughter. An emotional storm was raging withing Spock, affecting his mind. The same storm plagued Jim; his worry for his crew, his friend, and the young Vulcan he had just met were sickening him, shaking up a state of agitated irritability. So, despite the fact that Spock and Sòra were family, Kirk agreed with the Doctor. Spock stared at both gentlemen for a moment, contemplating on whether or not to tell them about the bond. With a slight shake of the head, he decided against it. It wouldn't be logical to tell them now.

"A very logical decision, gentlemen," he said instead, watching their eyebrows raise in suspicion. Is that what he looked like? He threw that feeling from his mind immediately, and with the slight nod of his head, he left Kirk and Bones to themselves, retreating to his quarters for mediation. McCoy watched the Vulcan's retreating back and felt a deep sense of irritation. Spock was going to say something, he was sure of it. Though McCoy may be a little reluctant to admit it, he did care for that unemotional, pointy-eared Vulcan, and over the years of sharing sharp remarks and unemotional/emotional back-and-forths, he had learned the way Spock acted. He and Kirk could see the smallest movements and twitches in his facial expressions; the slightest change in his demeanor, even if it was only for a moment, that betrayed the real way Spock was feeling. Neither of them acted on his betrayals, though. To feel the emotions that Spock would let shine through sometimes would completely shatter the perfect logical world that he had created for himself. Therefore, Kirk and McCoy never said anything about Spock's little slip-ups, although more than one subtle glance had been shared between the two. This time, concerned looks were expressed between Jim and Bones.

"He's hiding something, Jim," Bones said accusingly, "I know you saw it." Kirk let out a sigh as he faced McCoy.

"Yes, I did see it." Kirk said softly, referring to the look of apprehension and doubt that passed over Spock's face earlier. "But if he's keeping something to himself, we should abide by his choice. He'll tell us eventually, if it's of importance."

"Yes, but what does Spock consider important?" McCoy retaliated. Both he and Jim found themselves turning to look at Sòra, who lay still sleeping on her bed. Her silken hair laid carelessly across her face, her thin lips slightly open as she struggled to keep breathing. Both men felt their heartstrings being pulled as the young girl slept, something awakening in both of them that made them more determined than ever to save this Vulcan half-breed. Kirk turned back to McCoy's computer, and began searching through every file they had on the mysterious disease known as pnêvmones dolofónes. McCoy watched him for a moment, when a sudden panic filled his very being.

"He wouldn't abandon her, would he Jim?" he asked, staring at his Captain hopefully. Kirk heard himself scoff at McCoy's words.

"Even his Vulcan logic wouldn't allow that." Kirk responded, a bit disappointed in his Doctor's lack of trust in Spock. "Besides," Jim continued, "you saw the way he was acting when he first brought her in here. He actually seemed like a terrified, human father."

"Yes, and then he put that damn facade back on and acted like his feelings never existed!" McCoy retorted harshly, a tinge of pink returning to his cheeks.

"That's who he is, Bones." Kirk sighed, although he did agree with the Doctor- a bit.

"But it's his daughter, Jim! Vulcans may not show the same love for their children that humans do, but they do acknowledge their existence! They don't dismiss them in the way Spock is doing!" Kirk felt himself grow angry at McCoy's rant.

"He hasn't dismissed her, Doctor," Kirk growled, "if I remember correctly, you were the one who sent him away. Something about not wanting him to be contaminated?" McCoy blushed at his words, a bit of shame growing on his face. The emotionally charged Doctor let out an exasperated sigh, and sat down in a nearby chair.

"She's just so young, Jim," he said quietly, staring at the ground. "She seems so mature, so emotionally distant, but you can see the way she looks at him." Kirk winced. He agreed with McCoy on that point. "She's vulnerable when it comes to Spock, Jim. She may try to hide her feelings, but I think she wants something that Spock can't give." Kirk looked over at McCoy, awaiting his response as he raised his head. "Love."


	4. Deadly Bonding

Spock stumbled down the hallway, dimly aware of his surroundings. The bond was forming quicker than he had thought it would. His mind was racing as was his heart; he needed to get to his quarters, now. Although he didn't believe in luck, he was thankful when he rounded a corner and came face to face with his room. He felt his legs give out at the same moment the door silently closed behind him. Arising from the floor in an obvious effort, he dragged himself to his bed, grateful for the privacy he had. To be seen like this would be utterly shamef-...well, it would be unnecessary. Spock managed to pull himself upright on the soft linen sheets, and leaned against the backboard. To say he was worried would be illogical, but he was concerned that he did not fully understand the bond to complete it properly. For a moment, he considered telling Jim and McCoy about the bond, but he dismissed it quickly. They wouldn't understand- not to mention they knew nothing of Vulcan bonds and customs; they would be completely useless. _But they would be comforting, _Spock thought to himself. Once again, that thought was quickly expelled from his mind.

"You are a Vulcan," Spock said to himself, "You will find the logical solution to this problem." Spock touched his fingertips together and shut his eyes, a stance well known on the Enterprise. Some of the younger Ensigns had nicknamed it the "Thinking Vulcan." Spock's jaw tightened as he contemplated the facts. The Captain had set a course for Starbase 4, a base known for hosting a variety of aliens. Surely there would be Vulcans there that could instruct him on the proper way to complete the ritual with Sòra. However, they were estimated to arrive at Starbase 4 in three more days, which, Spock mused, would be too late. As he mulled the topic over further, he began to notice a dull, constant throb in his left side. At first he was puzzled by the sensation, but then realized that the pain must be originating from Sòra, pursing him as well due to their incomplete bond. His eyes fluttered open as he realized how much pain his daughter must be in. In his logical mind, he knew what he was about to do was necessary to protect his bloodline. In his emotional mind, he knew what he was about to do would save the one person he... he loved. He couldn't help but wince as that word burrowed into his mind, and gripped his eyes closed again as he focused his energy on his task. He could feel more and more pain seeping into his body as he struggled to continue. With a groan, he stood up in an attempt to to go to sickbay, uncharacteristically hoping that he had succeeded. At once, an overwhelming amount of sharp pain gripped him, sending Spock down to the floor in convulsions. He watched as his room was enveloped in blackness as he struggled to swallow back the bile that had lodged itself in his throat.

* * *

><p>Kirk watched anxiously as McCoy ran a series of tests. Numbers and equations were strewn across the pages in what seemed like a disorganized fashion, looking completely foreign to Kirk. However, according to the progress Bones was making, it wasn't foreign to him. Jim watched in growing anticipation as Bones and Christine stooped over the formulas and various bubbling liquids, muttering to each other and mixing things together. After another fifteen minutes, Kirk was shuddering with excitement and frustration. He could feel the scream boiling within him, and just when he was going to let all hell loose on the unexpected Doctor, Bones turned to him with a smile on his face.<p>

"I've got it, Jim!" he cried happily, his worn, Southern face painted with satisfaction. In his hand he held a small vile filled with a blueish, thick liquid. Kirk's eyes widened as he looked at the small flask, its contents swirling slowly.

"You mean, you've done it?" Kirk asked incredulously, watching McCoy swell at his words, "You've actually made a cure?"

"You insult me, Captain." McCoy said, pouting his lower lip and placing his other hand over his heart. Kirk laughed out loud at his friend, and grabbed him by the shoulders, congratulating him profusely. McCoy was positively beaming.

"Should we give it to her?" Kirk said, stepping back from McCoy, who still seemed quite content with himself.

"I'd like for Spock to be in here when we do." McCoy responded quietly, looking down at his shoes with renewed interest. Kirk couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, and agreed with Bones' request. There was a question plaguing him though, one that wouldn't go away.

"Bones," he said seriously, "I don't doubt your abilities, but is it safe?" McCoy nodded his head and with a faint smile said,

"I researched it as best I could with the information we had, it should be safe and strong enough to destroy the virus in her system." Kirk nodded his head, relieved and pleased with Bones' response.

"Alright, then," Kirk said, making his way to the door, "you get prepared, and I'll get Spock." Kirk strode out of sickbay confidently and made his way to his First Officer's quarters. McCoy stood over Sòra's bedside, adjusting the newly made cure into a hypodermic needle. He glanced down at the young girl, whose breathing was getting more haggardly, a slight wheeze present every time she inhaled. McCoy was getting more and more concerned every time he saw her.

* * *

><p>Jim walked briskly down the corridors of his ship, drawing ever closer to Spock's room. The closer he got, the more he heard one word reverberate in his mind. Love. Could Spock ever..love someone? Could he love his own daughter? He shook the thoughts from his mind and stepped up to Spock's door, pushing the small buzzer on the side of the doorway.<p>

"Spock, it's Jim. I need to tell you something." Kirk idly said into the speaker, glancing around the mostly empty hallway. After a few moments, his attention was pulled back to the speaker when he didn't hear a response.

"Spock?" he said again, a bit more frantically, for it was unlike his First Officer to ignore his Captain. Or his friend. Becoming immediately worried, Jim used his override code on the door, forcing it to open. He was greeted by a blast of dry heat, creating almost instantaneous sweat droplets on his brow. He raced into Spock's quarters, ignoring the usual Vulcan temperature that Spock kept his room at, focusing more on discovering the reason why his companion wasn't answering. Knowing he was overstepping many Vulcan boundaries, Kirk bolted into Spock's room, and felt the wind being knocked out of him by the sight that stood before him. Or, rather, convulsed before him. There, twitching on the ground, laid his Science Officer, jolting every few seconds in what seemed like unbearable pain. _It must be unbearable, _Kirk thought to himself as he rushed down to Spock's side, _if even Spock can't control it._ Jim noticed a small amount of vomit that trailed out of Spock's mouth as he tried to heave the Vulcan to his feet. The sight of his friend like this frightened Jim more than he'd ever been frightened before, and he lightly said Spock's name as he managed to prop him to his knees, keeping him close to his shirt. Though Spock felt ashamed and unstable, he greeted Kirk's shirt with a great amount of welcoming, letting his head collapse into the golden material. At this, Jim got even more worried, and with adrenaline fueling his muscles, he managed to carry the barely conscious Vulcan to sickbay.

* * *

><p>McCoy had been watching Sòra for the past ten minutes and was starting to feel worried. Jim should've been here by now, with Spock. Every minute that passed, the Doctor's agitation when up a notch. He rose from the chair he had been resting in, and began pacing next to Sòra's bed, sneaking glances at the door every few moments. He rubbed his forehead in aggravation, and finally stood still, a horrid feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach. <em>Something has to be wrong, <em>Bones thought to himself, _Spock wouldn't keep us waiting like this. This is his daughter. _McCoy felt his anger rise quickly, although he wasn't sure who he was angry at. He was immediately relieved though, when he saw the door slid open, Kirk barging through. His relief was quickly dissipated into horror when he saw who Kirk was carrying. Breathing heavily, Kirk laid Spock down on the bed next to his daughter. McCoy looked on with terror in his heart as he noticed the blood-filled vomit that covered the side of Spock's face, and the paleness of the Vulcan man. The mere sight of Spock sent chills through his bones. Although he was a man of medicine, whose duty was to help the injured and save the sick, he was almost too afraid to even go near Spock. The pitiful state he was in frightened the Doctor more than any disease ever could. However, he swallowed back the fear he was feeling and walked towards his new patient in a rush, snatching a medi-kit from the side table. _Besides, _McCoy thought to himself as he scanned Spock, _fear is an illogical emotion. _ Kirk watched impatiently as McCoy tended to Spock. Spock's condition was unsettling to him, and he needed to know if this was the work of Sòra's disease, or something else. Kirk felt himself shudder as he contemplated what else it could possibly be.

"Doctor," he said, his voice weaved with nervousness,"What is this? What's happening to him?" McCoy kept his head down, absorbing the readings he was receiving, almost not noticing his superior's question. With a shuddering sigh, he lifted his head up to meet his Captain's eyes.

"These readings are terrifying, Jim," he said quietly. "His respiratory system looks completely butchered, and it's failing, fast." Kirk swallowed back the large lump in his throat, and stared at the equally despondent Doctor.

"Is it P.D.?" he asked quickly, hoping in the least that McCoy's new vaccine could cure Spock's condition.

"It seems like it," McCoy responded haphazardly, his attention focused more on Spock's precarious breathing, "But he doesn't have a cut on his lung, like Sòra said everyone does." Kirk was intrigued at this information.

"If it is P.D., how did he get it? Did you discover how it was contagious?" At Kirk's question, McCoy snapped his head back up, with surprise on his features.

"Why, yes, I did discover how the disease transferred. A Vulcan only gets infected when they come into contact with contaminated blood." McCoy answered slowly, realization brightening his eyes. "Spock doesn't have it. He never came into contact with Sòra's blood." A brief moment of happiness at realizing that Spock didn't have pnvêmones dolofónes was quickly replaced with indecisive horror at not knowing what exactly was wrong with him.

"What the hell is happening to him, then?" Kirk asked quietly, mostly to himself, mostly to McCoy. Both men glanced down at Spock, whose breathing had reverted back to a somewhat normal state. McCoy, noticing the lingering vomit on Spock's face, took a cloth from his kit and wiped the putrid bile from his lips.

"He's dying for me," a small voice whispered. McCoy and Kirk found themselves staring at a now wide-awake Sòra, who was propped up on one elbow, staring at her father.

"Bones," Kirk whispered, knowing that her Vulcan ears could hear him anyway, "you gave her the cure already?" Bones looked back at Jim, with bewilderment and confusion written on his face. It was then that Jim noticed the blue vaccine lying on the table next to Bones, still full and completely unused. Though he already knew the answer, McCoy's strained voice still managed to sputter out:

"No."

"He's doing this for me," Sòra said again, forcing herself in a sitting position, never once taking her eyes off of Spock. "Why would he do this for me?" she whispered, seemingly to herself, "Why would he risk his life?" She trailed off softly, her young eyes filling with foreign tears. The emotions that she had tried to hide for so long were bubbling to the surface, churning against the barrier that she had built for herself, threatening to burst through and expose her for what she really was; a frightened little girl. McCoy marched over to Sòra and firmly placed a hand on her shoulder. He was confused and grumpy at the strange developments of his patients, and he was not about to let his youngest invalid get up and start walking around like nothing happened. Sòra looked up at him, hurt in her eyes, but she said nothing and relaxed against his hand, slouching on her bed.

"You know what's happening," Kirk stated, walking up to her. Sòra began trembling softly, almost like she was crying, but she looked up at the Captain with clear eyes.

"I do," she whispered, her voice unnaturally wavery for a Vulcan, "But in order to understand what Spock is doing, you have to understand the bond. Did Spock tell you of it?" Both men shook their heads simultaneously, although they both guessed that this bond Sòra spoke of was the secret that Spock had been keeping. A mature sigh escaped Sòra's still pale lips, and she sat for a moment, recollecting the information she needed to explain the bonding to the Captain and the good Doctor.

"Bonds," she began, he voice recovering the logical tone she had previously lost, "are very physically and mentally demanding confirmations into relationships. There are two, perhaps what you would call 'main' bonds; the bond between mates, and the bond between a child and a parent." She stopped to let the gentlemen catch up to what she was saying, sneaking a furtive glance at her father in the process. When both Kirk and McCoy looked contempt, she continued.

"The bonding between mates includes a relatively simple ceremony and a few physical tests," Kirk nodded as he remembered the test he had been put through himself when he witnessed the very secret ceremony due to Spock's Pon Farr. "However, the bonding between a parent and a child takes a more damaging control if not properly executed." Sòra stopped again, this time to remember the exact process that needed to be done. "If the ceremony is not done correctly," she dictated, her eyebrows furrowed close together, "the physical attributes of both the parent and the child will be uncontrollably passed between the two, resulting in plausible pain or death in the case of one or the other." She said the words like she was reading them from a book, although it was only her, Kirk, McCoy, and an unconscious Spock who were in the room. It was McCoy who first realized the seriousness of what she just said, and he bent down to her eye-level, a deep feeling of apprehension growing in his heart.

"Are you telling me, that because you and Spock haven't completed the bond, that your disease has merged into him?" he asked solemnly, with an undertone of concern in his words. A sad smile crept upon her face, which surprised the Doctor.

"No, but you were close," she said quietly, turning her emerald eyes towards Spock, "The disease hasn't moved itself to Spock. Spock moved the disease to himself."


	5. Interesting Circumstances

"He- he what?" McCoy mustered, staring at Sòra with a mixture of confusion and terror in his eyes. Sòra looked at him for a moment, then at Kirk, who still stood in front of her, stiff and unresponsive.

"There's a special technique that bonded parents can do," Sòra sighed, "that allows them to absorb the emotions their child is feeling. In our ancient history, this was used to protect children from diseases, while nowadays, it is more commonly used to teach children how to control and dispel of their emotions. It seems, though," she continued, choking a bit on her words, "that Spock is reverting to the olden days."

If it weren't for the situation they were in, McCoy could've sworn she had just cracked a joke, but due to the seriousness of her statement, he simply watched her, dumbfounded. Kirk felt slightly frightened at what Sòra was saying, but there was still a seed of hopefulness lodged in his heart, for McCoy's vaccine was still unused, therefore giving Spock a chance. It seemed as though the Doctor had the same mindset.

"Don't worry," McCoy said softly, lending Sòra a smile, "we still have the vaccine, it should cure Spock of the disease."

Sòra's eyes brightened slightly, but she said nothing. McCoy rose, and went over to the table, carefully grabbing the blue vial and tapping it gently, as Kirk walked up next to him. Sòra rose too, despite the warnings from her Doctor, and found herself sitting on Spock's bed, staring at him with curiously sanguine eyes. With a glance at his Captain, McCoy drove the needle into Spock's upper arm, sending the cure through his green-blooded veins. Almost instantly, Spock responded, drawing a deep intake of breath and making the surrounding people jump. With a slight groan, his eyes fluttered open, and he took in the blurry people around him. Sòra could feel herself smiling as Spock looked around, an unknown emotion tingling her heart. Quickly, she disposed of the smile as Spock's senses returned, knowing her father was a highly logical man, and smiling was not logical. Still, beneath her unemotional face, the unexpectedly delightful sensation she had felt earlier did not go away; and she didn't mind that. With a few more blinks and deep breaths, Spock could now make out his Captain and the Doctor hovering over him, a look of relieved happiness on their faces. With a glance to his left, he was satisfied to see his daughter looking him over, and considered that his rushed attempt had worked, even though he and Sòra were not completely bonded. There was something else he was feeling as well, though in his fuzzy state he couldn't quite make out what it was. It was a warm feeling though, making his satisfaction amplify.

"Oh, thank God, Spock," he could hear Kirk mutter, a smile gripping his Captain's features. McCoy's lips were upturned as well, utterly relieved that his vaccine worked. With a bit of an effort, Spock propped himself up, and took one more quick look at the people watching him.

"How are you feeling, Spock?" McCoy asked, his doctor's instincts shining through.

"Quite better, Doctor," Spock said as strongly as he could, though it came out as a forced whisper. Grabbing his tools again, McCoy scanned Spock to make sure of his statement.

"Well, your lungs and throat are still pretty scratched up, but they should heal shortly." McCoy stated happily, obviously glad that Spock was at least breathing. Spock nodded in acknowledgment, deciding that trying to speak again wouldn't be the best of ideas. Kirk stepped in front of McCoy, still wearing the smile that swept his face when Spock woke up.

"I'm glad you're okay, Spock," he said, mollified at Spock's condition, "but can I ask what the hell you were thinking risking your life like that?" His voice carried a tone of harshness, but one born out of concern. Spock looked up at his Captain curiously, wondering why Kirk was asking that question.

"It was necessary, Captain," Spock's still soft voice replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "Sòra is my own bloodline, to let her perish would be highly-"

"Illogical, I know Spock," Kirk said, exasperated, and dismissed his previous question with a wave of his hand, "You just rest, and when McCoy thinks you're ready, you can come back to your station." Spock dipped his head in acquiescence as his Captain smiled and left the room, leaving himself, McCoy and Sòra in the room. Bones sneaked a peek at the two Vulcans who were left sitting on the bed, heads still pointed towards the now gone Captain. With a coy smile and a slight nod, he left Spock and Sòra alone. As Sòra watched the Doctor retreat to his office, she felt a growing uneasiness in her stomach that frightened her, and left her swimming in her supposedly non-existent emotions. She turned back to her father, who still sat staring off into the distance. With a small cough, she grabbed his attention, and they sat for a moment staring into their eyes.

"I do appreciate what you've done for me, Spock," she said calmly, somehow being unable to say the word father in front of him. He bowed his upper body gingerly, still feeling sore from his encounter with the symptoms of pnvêmones dolofónes.

"I did what was necessary to protect my lineage," he said casually, as he watched Sòra with inquisitive eyes.

"Of course," she said maturely, "very logical in your decision; however," she stopped awkwardly, "I was concerned of your safety." She watched as her father's brows knitted closer together, probably contemplating the statement she had just made.

"For you to be concerned wasn't in my intentions," he said slowly, his mind racing to try and find the right words, "I had endeavored for you to survive- and it seems I was successful in that." Sòra arched her head down, half in a show of respect, half to cover up the smile that fluttered on her face from Spock's "compliment." She looked back up at him just as stoic as she had once been, and rose from his bedside.

"Get well, Spock," she said solemnly, raising two fingers in a sign of courtesy. He responded the gesture, and with that, she left the room, a guard escorting her to her newly made quarters. Spock watched as she left, coldness racing through the sheets and along his body, originating in the spot Sòra once occupied. He felt a pang of something unknown at the loss of her body heat; sadness, perhaps? He shook his head in an attempt to release the emotions that swarmed to him, ultimately deciding that he was still groggy from his condition. There was still something that he wondered that kept pulsating through his mind. Why had she addressed him so formally? Why had she refused to call him father? Even on Vulcan, young children regarded their parents in the human form of mother and father. But why had his own daughter refused to call him so? Was- was he not good enough to be accepted by her? No. No, that would absurd. Illogical, really. Spock could see that even for her age, she was highly mature, way beyond her years. For her to be acting on emotions would be... illogical. Spock huffed in annoyance at the realization of how many times he used that word, then glanced around cautiously to make sure no one had seen that little display of emotion. Still, he was starting to realize that he wanted to be called father, that he wanted to know what it was like to have a child to mentor. This emotion of wanton was surprising to him, and he leaned back on his bed, allowing the drowsiness to absorb him and whisk his alien emotions away- at least for the moment.

* * *

><p>Bones wasn't one to eavesdrop, but he had to finish up a few more files, and he couldn't help but overhear Sòra and Spock talking to each other. As their conversation conversation continued, McCoy felt himself being drawn closer to their voices. God, he felt guilty, but the way they were talking to each other was intriguing. So formal, McCoy couldn't help but wonder how the Vulcans were actually feeling. Despite the horrid violation he would be committing to his friend, McCoy crept slowly up to the doorway, and cautiously peeked around the corner. He saw Spock sitting stiffly, although there was a bit of weakness in the way he carried himself. Sòra sat next to him, her legs folded off the side of the bed and her midsection twisted towards her father. Although McCoy realized that during their entire conversation, she hadn't called Spock 'father' once. He contemplated the meaning of that. He was drawn back into their discussion as he heard Sòra speak again.<p>

"Of course, very logical in your decision; however," McCoy watched as she paused, seeming to fumble with her words, "I was concerned of your safety." Bones watched as a flicker of shock passed across Spock's face, replaced with furrowed brows. As their conversation continued, he watched quietly for a while longer, until, with a formal gesture, Sòra left Spock to himself. Though he felt ashamed at what he did, McCoy watched from behind the doorway as Spock drifted into sleep.

* * *

><p>Kirk was completely blithe as he walked back to his quarters, entirely content with the way everything had panned out. Sòra was now healthy, and Spock quickly on the way to recovery. He felt as though a tremendous amount of weight had been lifted from his heart, as well as his shoulders, and was thankful that he now had one less thing to worry about. His meeting was still a constant burden, though, and he knew he had put it off for far too long. He silently cursed Uhura for mentioning P.D. to Starfleet when they called about the progress of Vítron, but he instantly regretted it. She'd only been doing her duty, after all. Still, with everything that had happened he had put off the confrontation with Commodore Kalvin much more than he should have; whether he did it on accident or on purpose he wasn't quite sure. He reached his room with a heavy sigh, and went in, trying to mentally prepare himself for the important call that was announced by a beep on his computer screen. Kirk sat, took a deep breath, and clicked on the blinking button. Instantly, a tall, balding, middle-aged man appeared on Kirk's monitor. His face was deeply implanted with the wrinkles of a thousand stories, yet his deep brown eyes sparkled with young anticipation. Kirk couldn't help but smirk.<p>

"Commodore Kalvin," he said respectively. The Commodore grinned, his chest ballooning against his deep azure uniform, his multiple awards shining against the fabric.

"Jim, my boy, don't you be so formal," he drawled in a thick Southern accent, reminding the Captain of a certain Chief Medical Officer. Kirk let a small smile peak through his usually stoically commanding appearance.

"It's been a long time, Marcus," Kirk said, now using the Commodore's first name.

"It has, Jimmy, it has," Marcus agreed, nodding his head, "I haven't seen you since the Academy days. It seems like you've been doing well since then." He dipped his eyes in the direction of Kirk's golden Captain's shirt. "You know, when Starfleet told me that I'd be interviewing James Kirk, _Captain_ of the U.S.S. Enterprise, I almost didn't believe them." Kirk let out a warm smile at his superior's appraisal, although he was struck by a certain word. Interviewing.

"You're, interviewing me?" Kirk questioned lightly, his eyebrow raised in a stance not unlike the one of his First Officer's. At Kirk's question, Marcus seemed to dispose of his cheerful attitude and replaced it with one of grave and distinct seniority.

"As a matter-of-fact, I am," Kalvin stated. "It seems you've been avoiding me, Captain." His eyes glinted with amusement, but his face remained as serious as ever. Kirk let out an inward sigh, realizing that they were now getting down to the real business.

"I've not been avoiding you, Commodore," he said simply, thinking it would be better if he called him by his proper rank, "I've had important matters to attend to. You spoke with Lt. Uhura earlier, I'm sure she informed you and all of your Starfleet officials of the circumstances." He felt like grimacing; of course Kalvin knew, hell, the whole crew knew! Word got 'round of Spock's daughter faster than McCoy's "medical" Saurian brandy. The look of tightly concealed bemusement that appeared on the Commodore's face already informed Kirk of the answer.

"Yes," he said thoughtfully, "I do know of your 'circumstances'. An interesting development, eh, Jimmy?" Kirk watched irritated as a coy smile winked on Kalvin's lips. "Who could've guessed that the best First Officer in the fleet could have such a secret like that, huh?" Kirk flushed with anger at his bold statement, rage infecting his veins and spreading throughout his body. He went rigid in his chair, and Kalvin looked at him from across his screen, noticing the change in Kirk's demeanor.

"Are you insulting my First Officer?" he asked quietly, malice politely laced beneath his words, "Because in my opinion, that would be a very serious offense. To me, at least." The Commodore was slightly shocked at the brazen attitude that Kirk had adopted, and after a moment of unintentional silence, he sighed.

"I do apologize, Jimmy boy, that was a little outta hand," he said quietly. Kirk nodded his head curtly, accepting that this was the best apology he was going to get. "We do have business, though. Starfleet has been on edge since the re-introduction of pnvêmones dolofónes. The Vulcan ambassadors are getting, well, for lack of a better term, antsy." Though he was supposed to still be vexed at the Commodore for insulting his closest friend and best Science Officer, he was still surprised that he knew that pnvêmones dolofónes came back.

"Your Lt. Uhura gave us the tapes you and your Doctor had been working on," he chuckled, noticing the bewilderment on the Captain's face. Kirk nodded knowingly; just because he hadn't been acknowledging his duties didn't mean that his crew would too. He felt a warm breath of satisfaction flutter through his stomach. He was in command of an excellent crew. Kalvin's voice brought him back to reality.

"Jim, is this thing a threat?" his voice was now renewed with blunt concern. "Your logs indicated that your CMO was working towards a vaccine, but your transmissions stopped after that. We need to know, and quickly. The Vulcans are extremely important to the Federation, not to mention an excellent ally. To lose them would be a horrible calamity." Kirk did see the logic in his statement, though he could not manage to subside the feelings of disgust at how their concern was primarily focused on losing political affiliates. Then again, holding political alliences was their job, and his too. He kept his emotions hidden from the Commodore, though, silently thanking Spock for those years of unwitting lessons. However, he did let a smile peek through, delighted he'd have some good news.

"Actually, Commodore Kalvin," he said smugly, "Doctor McCoy has made a cure." The absolute shock that appeared on the Commodore's face was quickly replaced was a hearty laugh.

"I knew Starfleet could count on you, Jimmy!" he bellowed, his cheeks turning a soft pink. The wispy hair that remained on his head fluttered against his what were appearing to be uncontrollable guffaws. Jim was pleased at the Commodore's reaction; Starfleet probably wasn't expecting such quick results. After a few more moments, though, Kirk was beginning to get distressed. Just when he thought he'd have to say something, Kalvin's loud noises subsided into giggles. Kirk grinned as he saw the Commodore wipe away a tear.

"Well, Jimmy," he began again, a smile never leaving his lips, "do ya' think you could get your good Doctor to make more of those vaccines? Just to be safe of course. Vulcans won't take risks in anything." Jim agreed on Kalvin's request.

"I'll call him up just as soon as we're do-" A small buzz interrupted Kirk's sentence. Kirk looked over at his door, to where the sound was emanating. He was annoyed and curious at this interruption, but there was something deep inside of him that insisted that there was something wrong. And in addition to the unexpected problems with Spock and Sòra, he wasn't prepared to take any chances. He turned to the Commodore for a moment, offering apologies and insisting that he take this. The Commodore was too pleased at the luck of his situation that he didn't even seem to notice that the Captain got up. Kirk marched to the door, and with the push of a button was introduced to the interrupter. He was shocked to see an alarmingly terrified CMO standing in front of him, wringing his calloused hands together. As the door slid open, McCoy shot his eyes up, a complete look of utter desperation swimming in them.

"Jim it didn't work, I didn't do it right- something went wrong," The fragmented sentences came out in a hushed whisper, startling Jim. Bones was usually never unsure of anything.

"Bones," he asked quietly, laying a hand on the shaking Doctor, "What's wrong? What happened?" McCoy looked up at him with unusually scared eyes. He took a deep breath to steady himself, while Jim looked on in uneasy anticipation.

"It's Spock."


	6. It Must Be Done

Those two words were the thing that sent the Captain flying out of his room and rushing to sickbay, a disgruntled and still shaking Doctor trailing after him. He needed to get to Spock now. He and Bones hadn't come this far to stop now. He would help Spock; save Spock. Those were the only thoughts on Kirk's mind, paying no attention to the confused and now furious Commodore left shouting through a computer screen. _Oh God Spock, please be okay. _Jim thought to himself, cursing the number of mingling people that seemed to appear in the hallways. He was almost about to break into a run when he finally saw the door to sickbay. Leaving the doctor in the dust, he barged in, terrified at what he found.

Spock's condition was a truly frightful one. His teeth were ground shut in an obvious attempt to suppress a scream. Kirk could only watch, frozen, as Spock arched his back in agony, his hands digging into the sidebars of his bed, leaving large and malicious dents. It was then that McCoy darted in, out of breath from his race with the Captain. He darted to Spock's side, seemingly unaware of the violent thrashing that was consuming his friend's body. Kirk was shocked that McCoy could've been so scared earlier, and now seemed perfectly fine; fiddling with various tools. As Kirk lightly made his way to Spock's bedside, he noticed something that drained his face of all color. Four, used, hypodermic needles lay carelessly on the small nightstand. _Four._ All prescribed with a sedative. All obviously failed. He looked back up at McCoy who stood standing with a determined air, filling yet another needle with what seemed to be a much higher dosage. _I guess this explains why Bones seems so calm. He's done this before. _Kirk thought to himself grimly as he looked back down at Spock, who still laid writhing in agony. Slowly, cautiously, he placed a hand on Spock's shoulder, trying to relax him- wishing he could do more but knowing he couldn't. Spock twitched at Kirk's touch, while the rest of his body was being pulled by invisible strings, jumping in all different directions. With deep, hesitant breaths, he looked up at his Captain with uncharacteristically panic-stricken eyes.

"Sòra."

The word came in such a breathless whisper that for a moment, neither man knew just exactly what Spock had managed to say. It wasn't until Spock's barriers fell and he let out another groan of excruciating pain that the realization finally dawned on them. Kirk raced to the wall communicator while McCoy finally administered the drug, which didn't knock Spock out, but seemed to put him in a less uncomfortable state.

"Bradley, get Sòra down here now!" Kirk barked into the communicator, rousing the attention of the guard who had been assigned with Sòra's protection.

"Sir, she should already be down there," came Bradley's confused and sheepish response, casting shadows over everyone in the room.

"Are you telling me," Kirk began through gritted teeth, "that you let a young, previously injured, Vulcan _girl_ come to sickbay unassisted?" McCoy could almost see the alarmed look on Bradley's face.

"Well, I- uhm, sir, she just seemed so confident- I was, uh, sure she could make it to sickbay." Bradley's voice was barely above a whisper. Kirk's face began tinging with red, and just as he was about to _permanently _relieve Bradley of his duty, the swooshing of doors and very labored breathing brought his attention elsewhere. Kirk turned sharply, and standing difficultly in the doorway was the young Vulcan who he had been searching so desperately for. Her face was lined with pain, and both McCoy and Kirk found it incredible that she could still stand while her father had been nearly incapacitated. Sòra let out a huff of satisfaction, and with an albeit, slight, grin, she said, "I made it." And with that, she collapsed onto the floor.

McCoy and Kirk were at her side at an instant, Kirk pulling her up gently, he and McCoy rushing her to the bed next to a groggy and worried Spock.

"Please," Spock muttered, his voice raspy, "keep her safe." His request was fueled by emotion; therefore illogical, and McCoy was all to happy to consent. A grimace rose to Sòra's once impassive face as burst of pain shot through her body. She let out a whimper, now unable to control the pain like her father had tried to. McCoy grabbed his kit, another syringe in hand, preparing a similar amount of painkillers for the girl.

In all of Spock's calculations and equations, he knew that the weak medication that the Doctor was about to prescribe would not help Sòra at all. It was barely helping _him_. With a fleeting look at his daughter and a flood of emotions that were unrecognizable and crippling to Spock's quickly failing logical walls, he prepared what little of his mind he had control of and began his absorption. To a immensely surprised Kirk and McCoy, Sòra's breathing became normal and her shivering stopped. Then, to even more surprise, Spock began jolting with more pain than ever before; breathing in, but not breathing out. It only took a second for McCoy to realize what he had done.

"Stop, Spock!" he fumed, barreling over to his bedside. "This won't work, you can't help her like this!" His voice was harsh, but there was a pleading trace within it. Spock's eyes managed to connect to McCoy's for a moment, until they rolled back into his head from the pain.

"No, Spock, no!" McCoy was blatantly pleading now, grabbing the Vulcan's shoulders in an un-Doctorly way to keep him alive. He knew that no amount of hypo's could save him now. Suddenly, the desperate Doctor was pushed aside with great force, that sent him flying into the open-mouthed Captain. Sòra stood determined over Spock, and with a gentle, sweeping motion, her fingers firmly grasped a delicate nerve on his shoulder. With a slight shudder, Spock was sent into a restless unconsciousness. Kirk lightly gave the Doctor a push, and the both of them walked timidly over to Spock's bedside.

"Well, I'll be," McCoy said airily, "I should've thought of that in the first place." Sòra couldn't help but give him a half-smile.

"I assure you Doctor, you would not have been able to perform the nerve pinch correctly." With a nervous laugh, McCoy responded, "You're so much like your father it's unbelievable." Sòra felt herself stiffen at his words, even though McCoy had intended it as a compliment. Kirk sensed the uneasy tension and took it as his opportunity.

"How are we going to solve this?" he asked to both people, still shaking from the unpredictability of Spock's condition and the lingering feeling that he could do nothing to help him. At his words, Sòra stood a little straighter, and let out a resolute sigh.

"I shall fix this." she said simply. Kirk and McCoy stared at her curiously.

"And just what do you intend to do?" he asked.

"There is no alternative," she said, in the same simple voice, "I must take back the disease to prevent permanent contamination." McCoy visibly started at her statement.

"Permanent contamination?" he stuttered, glancing back down at Spock. Sòra blinked slowly, yearning to ignore the questions and simply proceed with her intentions, but she knew that the Doctor and the Captain deserved an answer.

"We have 7.35 minutes before the pain reawakens Spock; I will try and explain this as well as I can," she said somewhat hastily. Both Bones and Jim were taken aback at how..unemotional, Sòra seemed now, but they complied.

"When the bond is completed, emotions, as well as physical characteristics, can be willingly passed through the parent and child. Because Spock and I have not completed the bond, even though he has taken the disease from me, I can still feel the pain he is in," Sòra let out a small shudder as a wave of nauseousness passed from the inert Spock to her. She waved away the Doctor's help, and continued.

"In the ancient times, when parents would absorb painful afflictions or diseases to save their children, it was always they who died." Kirk and McCoy shared a confused glance, one that was not missed by the astute Vulcan girl.

"After a time of holding the disease, it would eventually be permanently immersed into the parent's bloodstream, resulting in their death," she explained, turning to look back down at Spock. "I shall not let that happen." Extreme confusion and anxiety passed through both Jim and Bones as they stared at Sòra, whose piercing green eyes stared back, awaiting their response. With slight sigh and worried expression, Kirk leaned down on one knee to face her. She looked down expectantly.

"Is there no other option?" he asked quietly. A strangled cry was heard from behind him. Instead of turning to meet his, most likely, now fuming CMO, Kirk simply dropped his head from a persistent amount of shame.

"Of course there's another option, there's always another option!" McCoy fumed, pulling Jim up from his place on the ground. "For Christs' sake, Jim, you're telling me that you're willing to let a girl die; his own daughter, no doubt!" His rage was barely containable.

"What other option do I have then?" Kirk bellowed back, his disgrace and desperateness bringing him to the brink of insanity. "We have no cure, no time, no Vulcan voodoo magic to cure him-"

"Captain," Sòra's strong and slightly harsh voice broke Kirk from his emotional rampage, "This is _my _only option." McCoy looked at her in defeat, while Kirk simply stared. He felt like he'd been doing that a lot lately.

"It is logical that I do this, gentlemen," she repeated, her words softening, "Spock is more useful to you than I am, as he is to Starfleet as well." McCoy ravaged his mind, trying to think of something to say, but he came up with nothing. Both he and Jim knew her logic was flawless.

"I- I can't allow this," McCoy said quietly, more to himself than to Sòra, "To let you willingly die, it's, it's-"

"Necessary, Doctor," Sòra finished for him, although that wasn't the word he had in mind. McCoy looked at her, determination flaming in her eyes, and sighed.

"Do what you must," he forced out, "but I'll have the both of you know, that I will do everything in my power to make a cure." Sòra smiled despite herself at the determination now burning in the Doctor's eyes.

"My appreciation," she said, bowing her head towards him. A soft groan broke the silence. Sòra turned back to her father, who was being roused from his slumber and awaking to the pain.

"Gentlemen, if you will," she said, never taking her eyes from her father. Both Jim and Bones nodded at her request for privacy and retreated to McCoy's office, hearts and minds heavy.

"By God, Jim, this is the worst thing I've ever let happen." McCoy muttered as they sat down in chairs, parallel to each other. "Spock's gonna kill me if I can't save her."

"Spock will die anyway if we don't let her do this," Kirk responded, rubbing his temples to alleviate the pounding in his head. McCoy swallowed back the lump in his throat and covered his face with his worn, shaking hands.

"The worst thing," he repeated softly, his voice trembling with threatening tears.

* * *

><p>Sòra stood over Spock, pushing back the tremors of fear and anticipation that were breaking through her renewed logic. She gently placed her hand over Spock's face, locating the proper points for a mind-meld. She gasped at the flooding amount of pain that shot through Spock's mind to her own, his thoughts and emotions left unguarded from his unconsciousness and agony. As she began her attempt to relieve Spock of the disease, he was immediately wakened from his malady and the presence of another in his mind. Instantly he began closing his mind to her, forcing her out.<p>

_Spock, no, _She said, startled at his rapid awakening.

_...S__ò__ra? _He questioned, unnerved by her ubiquity in his mind and the diminishing pain in his body.

_Yes, Spock, it is I. Please remain calm as I finish the process. _She commanded gently, trying not to allow Spock to pick up on the thoughts on what she was doing.

_Fascinating, _he spoke, obviously not picking up on Sòra's plan, much to her relief; which she also kept hidden, _You've already learned how to mind-meld? At such a young age? _Her mind was filled with his awe, which she, for the moment, relished in.

_I've had much time to study. _She responded, keeping Spock engaged the conversation.

_That is truly an admirable feat. _He said to her, his emotions slowly re-hiding behind his logic as he regained full consciousness. _But, can I ask what you are attempting to do? _Sòra winced out loud as more pain flooded her, and in that moment, her thoughts were left vulnerable, swarming into Spock's mind. His eyes widened.

_No. Absolutely not. _He said, a strange surge of fury enveloping him at the thought of her intentions. _I will not let this happen. _At once, he began closing his mind, severing their connection. Sòra, unwavering in her decision, pushed harder against his mind.

_This is the logical thing to do, Spock, _she said forcefully, her reasoning plunging into Spock's mentality. Spock felt her reasons, her plan, everything she intended to do to save him. And he felt himself go limp; mentally and physically.

_I must do this, Spock, _she repeated, her voice now soft, _You are of much more value than I. _Hurt shot through Spock at her words, and Sòra felt it. It was a deep, uncontrollable, and coursed through them both.

_That is not true. _Spock whispered. His eyes met hers, and with one last gaze, her emerald eyes shut closed.

_It must be done. _

As the last of the disease rushed into Sòra, she removed her hand from Spock's paled face. She sent him a struggled smile, and collapsed onto the floor in a heap of pain and exhaustion.


	7. A Pleasing Warmth

Hey guys, just a little warning: I may bring some more Spock/Christine interactions, mostly for some foreshadowing in the future. ;) I'm just a total romance when it comes to those two. But believe me, this won't take away from the father/daughter thing I've got going on.

* * *

><p>He watched her as she fell. Her bright, green eyes; glowing like emeralds, being absorbed by the whites of her eyes. The faint smile she sent him was whisked away as the virulent disease he had struggled so determinedly to save her from seized her body. With sluggish motions he arose from his bed just as she was falling, following her movement through slowed-down eyes, as though he was observing her through thick molasses. She crumpled like a delicate paper flower, collapsing on the ground, her head meeting the cold tile with a disagreeable force. When the sickening crack of the impact reached Spock's decisively perceptive ears, his senses rushed back to him with an overwhelming vigor. He leaped from his bed, throwing the sheets from him in a frantic fashion, and left them sprawled across the floor next to his unconscious daughter. Touching her face gently, he dipped quickly into her mind, knowing a full meld would be completely out of the question, due to both of their fragile states. However, with the small connection he was given, he could specifically determine the points of her major pain, and noted them with precision. With large and powerful hands, he picked her up slowly, her head lolling into the crook of his shoulder, every so often gasping for breath. He was shocked to feel the pricks of tears at the side of his eyes, a painfully clear reminder of how very human he was indeed. He took a shuddering breath and swallowed back a large lump in his throat, and proceeded to place her gently on the bed next to him, her unconsciousness morphing into unstable contractions. Realizing that he could do no more, he frantically looked for the one person who could.<p>

* * *

><p>After the initial depression that grasped both McCoy and Kirk had passed, the two men now worked with a slowly building determination. McCoy had long abandoned his self-pitying stance at his desk and was now hunched over his computer screen, his deep, blue Georgian eyes squinting as he read the information from his screen. Kirk was glancing over transcripts that he had complied over P.D., studying them like he was studying for a test. The room was set in a driving silence, each man working on his own projects, until a sharp buzzing was heard outside of the doors. McCoy looked over at Kirk, who was mirroring the same confusion the Doctor was. Both men doubted it was Sòra, and hadn't even considered Spock, so it was a great surprise when Bones opened the doors and was whisked away from his office, Spock's powerful grip at his shirt collar. Kirk rushed after the pair uncertainly, not knowing what exactly he would expect.<p>

Without words, Spock dragged the stuttering CMO to Sòra's bedside and released his collar. McCoy glanced up at Spock, who stared back at him with a threatening glare in his eyes. He looked away and circled Sòra's bed, reaching his medical kits and injecting her with a high-dose prescription of morphine. She threw her head back on the sheets, her back arching with agony as the last of the pain-killers entered her system. McCoy, Spock, and Kirk watched in silence before she let out a broken scream and collapsed onto the bed, sweat surrounding her body like a glistening waterfall. Kirk and McCoy watched her a moment longer, hardly breathing as they regained their nerves. Spock marched over to McCoy, who finally glanced up at him.

"I trust you've come up with a cure, Doctor?" he asked, his voice a rough and haggard whisper. For the first time that day, the Doctor let out a snort.

"You underestimate me, Spock," he said playfully, his eyes refocusing on Sòra, "Jim and I have made some incredible progress." Spock's eyes sparkled with an unspoken hope as he glanced down at his daughter.

"Let's get to it, then," he said sharply, swirling back to Jim and Bones, who snapped their attention back to him. Jim bowed his head solemnly as he muttered, "Agreed." The three men left the room and headed back to McCoy's office, their faces all set in stony determination, until Spock abruptly stopped in front of Nurse Chapel's office, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. McCoy and Kirk noticed his stop immediately, and walked up to him, worried that the side affects of he and Sòra's unfinished bond was coming back to haunt him.

"Spock?" Kirk asked, placing a hand on his First Officer's forearm. "What is it?" Spock looked up at Jim, then at McCoy, who stood close to him as well, worry flashing in his eyes.

"I..I'm uncomfortable leaving Sòra alone in her current...condition," Spock admitted, turning his head towards Nurse Chapel's doors, "I had intended to request that Ms. Chapel watch over her." Kirk gave his friend a soft smile, his heart warmed by Spock's intentions for his daughter's well-being.

"That can easily be arranged," McCoy said, strolling up next his Nurse's quarters, "Besides, she'd be more than happy to help, Spock." Spock nodded his head, and tried to pull himself up taller, the burden of his recent activities taking a wearying toll on him. McCoy pressed the buzzer on Ms. Chapel's door, and spoke, "Chris, come out here for a moment." After a few minutes of rustling papers, the doors slid open to reveal the Nurse, her hair released from her usual bun and flowing around her shoulders. Her cheeks were tinged a slight pink and she held in her arms a bundle of papers.

"Yes, Doctor?" she asked, adjusting her papers in one arm as she flicked a brown lock away from her eyes.

"Ms. Chapel," Spock said, stepping in front of McCoy, "It would be much appreciated if you would watch over Sòra while the Doctor, Captain and I continue our research." His voice lacked authority, but it rang clear in his eyes. Christine jumped back a step at the sight of Spock. He himself lifted an eyebrow, wondering why she could've reacted like that.

"Mister Spock?" she questioned, staring at him intently, "I thought you were assigned with bed rest because of P.D.?" Spock reciprocated her gaze, and found himself remembering that she had been in the room with him and McCoy when he had been once again attacked by pnêvmones dolofónes, flitting around the room with her various tools and helping McCoy sedate him. He never had the chance to tell her his gratitude for her help and silence in the matter.

"As you can see now, I am quite fine, Ms. Chapel," he stated. She nodded slowly, his previous words now sinking in. _Since Spock was alright,_ she realized, _then S__ò__ra was the one in real danger._ She silently commended the young girl's bravery, and refocused her attention on her commanding officer.

"I'll go to Sòra, then," she said, her direct tone filling Spock with a pleasing warmth. "In the meantime," she continued, shoving her multitude of papers to McCoy, "You take these; hopefully they'll help." She gave them all a reassuring smile, and jogged lightly down the hallway towards Sòra. Kirk grabbed some of the papers quizzically, skimming over the contents.

"Bones," he said, grabbing the attention of the Doctor, who was still watching the retreating Nurse with Spock, "These are notes over P.D." He grabbed another paper from his stash and read through it quickly. "And equations." McCoy snatched the papers back and glanced over them, his eyes widening with each sentence. Without another word, McCoy ran to his office, ignoring the shouts of his Captain and the surprisingly disgruntled look from Spock. He slammed the papers down on his desk and flicked on his computer, typing away furiously as Kirk and Spock finally entered behind him.

"Care to explain what that was, Bones?" Kirk huffed, peering over McCoy's desk. He was hurriedly entering the formulas on Christine's notes onto his own, stopping every so often to double-check his work.

"Bones?" Kirk asked again, a little nervous at what his usually level-headed CMO was doing. Seeming to be oblivious to the two men in his office, McCoy started letting out shaky laughter, trailing his finger along the calculations he had previously entered.

"Well, I'll be damned," he whispered to himself, his eyes wide with amused astonishment.

"Care to explain where exactly you'll be damned to, Doctor?" Spock spoke, his voice retaining an edgy quality. McCoy glanced up at him, the amusement still in his eyes, and stifled a giggle as Spock's eyebrow shot up in the Vulcan form of aggravation.

"Chris's done it," he whispered again, smiling up at his still confused companions, "Nurse Chapel has found a cure."

* * *

><p>Christine marched her way proudly to the internal section of sickbay, stopping only a brief moment to gather a medi-kit from a nearby cabinet before settling herself next to a thoroughly sedated Sòra. She skimmed the girl over carefully, her practiced eyes catching every detail. The young Vulcan was sweating profusely; her entire body seemed to shimmer. She was also breathing heavily, as though it were a struggle to simply open her mouth. With one hand she felt the girl's forehead, inhaling sharply at the touch. She was scorching, her temperature much to high- even for a Vulcan. She gave the girl a slightly pitying glance before grabbing a white cloth that she proceeded to run under the sink, letting it absorb the cool water. She returned to Sòra's side, and gently placed the cloth on her forehead, watching as she winced upon contact. <em>I'm sorry, sweetheart, <em>Christine whispered to herself, _but until we know exactly what P.D. can do, I wouldn't dare risk giving you anything; not even a blasted fever reducer. _Christine gave a small grimace, knowing that not giving her any medication was the smart thing to do, but feeling horrible about it all at the same time. She could see the steam begin to rise from the once soaking towel, so she removed it from Sòra's forehead and flipped it over, using the other side to lightly wipe her entire body down. As she caressed the smooth cotton over the girl's arm, she gave herself the opportunity to study the child more carefully. Christine couldn't help but smile at the striking resemblance she was to her father. Her pointed ears were sharp and smooth, and her high eyebrows stroked downwards in such a similar fashion to the Enterprise's Vulcan First Officer that there was no if's, and's, or but's about it. Sòra was Spock's daughter. And despite all the years she pined after her commanding officer, Christine felt no pang of jealousy or depression at the thought of Spock with another woman. No anger towards the girl who was a sentiment of their love- or logic. No, she had long ago forgone the relationship she had embarrassingly forged for them; her only goal now to become, as Leonard had put it, "the best damn medical professional in the fleet." That and live happily. She could never deny that her feelings for Spock had just magically disappeared, but now that she was making a path in her life, she wasn't about to abandon it for a man who would never notice. She smiled gently to herself. _Maybe, someday, Spock and I can become friends, _she thought, glancing back down at the young Vulcan girl, whose breathing was getting a little more regular, her searing temperature dropping back down to normal. Christine wiped the cloth once more against her face, and trailed along her jawline before removing it completely from her body. At once, Sòra let out a low moan, as if realizing that her cool comfort had been removed. Her nurse-like instincts returning, Christine promptly re-watered the cloth and reapplied it to Sòra's brow. As she watched Sòra, Christine remembered how much Spock changed in front of her, especially when she was in danger. The first time he had brought her into sickbay he had almost- hell, he had!- threatened Doctor McCoy after he made some smart-alack comment about her ears. When she was in pain, he was in pain. It was like he became a concerning, desperate father. He really did care for her, even if his stubborn logic wouldn't allow those words to be said aloud. That's why she needed to stay alive. She needed to survive for Spock's sake. Christine cast a wistful glance towards Doctor McCoy's office, where she could faintly see the outlines of three men. She desperately hoped her notes would help them.

* * *

><p>"Y- You mean, she actually did it?" Kirk stuttered, his eyes focused on the ecstatic Doctor, "B- But how?" At this, McCoy began laughing as he gathered up the rest of the papers that had fluttered around his desktop.<p>

"She's brilliant, Jim, that's all I can say," he laughed, running his free hand through his dangling hair. He bounded around the side of his desk and ran to Jim and Spock, grabbing a paper and shoving it beneath their noses.

"You see here," he started, pointing to a series of numbers and abbreviations, "Chris discovered that with a simple mixture of an anti-inflammatory and," he stopped for a moment to read ahead, "Well, a very strong narcotic that I think we still have in stock, that we can destroy the disease in Sòra's system. Actually some pretty simple stuff, but these medications aren't common on Vulcan, which would explain the lack of a cure." He looked back up at his friends with an exciting smile on his face, small wrinkles appearing along the crease of his eyes, "But we sure as hell have'em, Jim."

Kirk began laughing along with his Doctor, while Spock took a few papers from McCoy's grasp and read over them. Spock's eyes sifted over the information, imbibing the formulas and handwritten notes scrawled over the Nurse's paper. He felt the same tingling warmth in his stomach that he had felt earlier before in the hallway, when Nurse Chapel had boldly promised to help Sòra. Was it, happiness? He couldn't be sure, and now was not the time to meditate on it. Nurse Chapel's formulas seemed sound, and the sooner the Doctor could act on them, the better. He turned to face McCoy and Kirk, who seemed to have already been watching him.

"Well, Spock," McCoy began, gesturing to the papers, "Do they seem logical enough for you?"

"Indeed, Doctor," Spock replied, "They are quite logical. Shall we begin with the preparations?" With a small smile, McCoy took the papers back from Spock, and began down the hallway to one of the many labs inside of sickbay. Once they all entered, McCoy slid the papers across the table, smoothing them neatly next to each other.

"Spock," McCoy said, his head bowed down as he continued with his task, "I want you to go check on Sòra and make sure she's doing alright." Spock walked up to the table, across from McCoy, and raised an eyebrow.

"Doctor, I entrusted Nurse Chapel with Sòra's well-being; she is more than capable of handling the situation," he responded coolly, though he did seriously consider going to Sòra, for reasons he was unaware of. McCoy let out an exasperated sigh and looked up at Spock, his arms propping himself over the table.

"Just go to her, Spock, check on her. And bring back Nurse Chapel when you're down there. I'll need her help for this." McCoy returned to his work, stooping over Christine's papers while scribbling new notes of his own. Spock took this as McCoy's refusal on the subject further, so he simply nodded his head and went to retrieve Ms. Chapel. Her assistance was necessary to ensure that the cure was properly made. And that was the most important thing on Spock's mind right now.

* * *

><p>Christine clutched Sòra's hand firmly, her other hand still dabbing the child with the wet towel. As the minutes ticked by, Sòra's breathing had gotten seriously worse, coming out as struggled gasps. Her chest had been shaking violently, and only after Christine had watered her down four more times and grasped her hand had the convulsions finally stopped. After that, Christine had refused to let her hand go. She was getting extremely worried for Sòra, her condition was growing worse every moment. But still, she kept her place at Sòra's side, and silently hoped that the notes she had collected would help. She remembered that she had found some considerable evidence of a possible cure; something about an anti-inflammatory, she just prayed that it would help even a little. Checking on the towel, Christine realized that it was once again bone-dry, so she stood and tried to re-wet the towel while still holding the young girl's hand, who seemed to be adamant about letting go. She twisted her body around her and stretched as far as she could, barely managing to flick on the sink and let the towel absorb the cool water.<p>

"That is a most admirable feat, Ms. Chapel."

Christine let out a small yelp and dropped the dripping wet towel on the ground at the sound of the newly present voice. She swerved on her feet and came face to face with Spock, who was observing her with what she could've sworn to be amusement. She rolled her eyes and let out a small sigh before saying, "Could you get that for me, Spock? Sòra seems pretty intent on not letting go." He raised an eyebrow at her, but walked over and swiftly picked the damp, heavy towel from the ground and held it out to Christine. She grabbed it from him and quickly applied it to Sòra, whose breathing was already getting haggard again.

"Thank you, Spock," Christine murmured, wiping the cloth across the girl's smoldering forehead. Spock didn't reply, and she didn't expect him to, so for a moment they sat in silence, watching the young Vulcan's chest rise and fall. It was a painful thing to see, the struggle for Sòra's survival, so Christine finally broke the silence.

"Did my notes help, Spock?" she asked, turning her head to look at him. For a moment his lips quirked into what seemed like a small smile, but they returned to their impassive line as he responded, "Yes, Ms. Chapel, they were of extreme importance." Once again, the ghost of a smile returned, "You seem to have made a cure." The words slowly sank into Christine's head, reverberating inside of her mind until they finally made sense. Then a smile lit up her features.

"Did I really?" she grinned, looking back down at Sòra. Spock stared at her, the smile on her features drawing back that warm feeling from before.

"Yes, you did," he told her, "Your notes proved a cure was possible. And for that," Spock stopped, looking at Christine with an almost awkward expression. She glanced up at him, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"For that, I thank you, Ms. Chapel." Christine let out a small huff of laughter and found her eyes pricking with tears. Spock raised a characteristic eyebrow at her display.

"Ms. Chapel, are you feeling alright? I did not plan on making you emotionally upset." Another snort escaped from Christine's lips as she squeezed Sòra's hand a little tighter.

"No, Mr. Spock, I'm glad that I could be of help," Christine said softly, "And please, call me Christine. We both know we're way past the point of surnames." Spock nodded his head tightly, and let his expression soften just a fraction.

"Then, thank you, Christine. For all you have done for me," Spock motioned towards Sòra, "And for her." Christine's smile widened further, and she wrenched her eyes away from Spock to focus on Sòra.

"You are most welcome, Spock," she said quietly, eyes still on Sòra. Spock nodded his head and then spoke again with a commanding tone, "You are needed with Doctor McCoy, Christine. He requires your assistance in creating the antidote." Christine felt delightful that he had indeed accepted the use of their first names, and Spock himself found her name rolled easily off of his tongue. Christine's delight, however, was quickly subdued by surprise.

"My help, huh?" she asked, stretching her back as far as she could while still holding Sòra's hand.

"Perhaps you should release Sòra's hand and report to him," Spock said evenly. Christine knew that he meant no insult- that he was merely making an observation, but she couldn't help but stiffen.

"I _know _that Spock," she retorted, turning her whole body to face him, "but she is gripping it pretty hard, and you know Vulcan strength and all." He raised an eyebrow, and bent down to examine their intertwined fingers.

"Why is it that she is grasping your hand like that, Nurse?" he questioned, his tone becoming curious as he stared back up at Christine.

"Well," Christine began, her eyebrows pursed together, "I suppose it's giving her comfort. To have someone to hold on to." Spock replicated Christine's furrowed brow, and went back to studying their hands.

"Highly illogical," he muttered, pulling Sòra's and Christine's fingers apart with separate hands. Christine watched him intently as he tried to break their grasp, a bit forcibly, she noted. At one time, she would have been overwhelmed by his close presence, his fingers on her skin. She would've craved this unwitting intimacy desperately. Now, she felt little. Her heart fluttered, yes, but she couldn't help that. Spock was handsome, and he was mysterious, a perfect combination for the young nurse. But she had grown to realize that he could never really reciprocate her affections, and it was better to let him go than to carry on as some love-sick schoolgirl.

Spock found himself having some trouble as he pulled Sòra's hand away from Christine's. The nurse had been right; Sòra was not letting go. Every time he would get a few fingers away, Sòra would squirm and hold tighter than before. If Spock had known better, he would have called it infuriating. Instead, he looked back up at Christine and tried to hold back a sigh.

"Having trouble?" she giggled, enjoying the exasperated look on his face.

"It seems to be more difficult than I first thought, yes," Spock replied impassively, though he was quite bemused at the sound of her laughter.

"Well, perhaps we'll have to replace my hand with something else," Christine said, stooping down to Spock's level.

"And what exactly do you have in mind?" Spock questioned, noticing the mischievous glint in Christine's eyes.

"Place your hand on top of mine," she commanded, watching his reaction. He raised an eyebrow but obeyed, curious as to what she was planning. Her flesh was warm and soft, her hand surprisingly tiny compared to the width of his own. Christine smiled at him, glad that he complied.

"Now, are you ready?" she asked, tensing the muscles in her arm.

"For what?"

"This!" she cried, yanking her arm back with all of her might. Immediately, she was released from Sòra's grasp, and, just like Christine predicted, Sòra latched on to the closest thing she could, which happened to be Spock's own hand. Spock stumbled a bit from Christine's sudden movement and the now increasing pressure on his fingers, and watched as Christine regained her composure and placed her hands on her hips.

"Well, Spock?" she grinned, "How 'bout that for clever, huh?" Spock regarded her with growing respect, and dipped his head.

"Quite clever indeed, Christine," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. She gave him another warm smile, one he was beginning to find pleasing, and began to walk off towards McCoy's office.

"Leonard and I will work as fast and efficiently as we can, Spock. In the meantime, keep her company." She gave one last small smile, took a glance at Sòra, and then scurried off to the lab. Spock was left standing there, his mouth still curved and his mind still racing. He turned quickly to face Sòra, whose breathing was still ragged but seemed to be content with holding Spock's hand. He deemed the contact unnecessary, but decided to obey the Nurse's request and stay like that; for Sòra's benefit or Christine's he couldn't tell. So he found a chair and sat. Sat and watched his daughter's breathing and replayed the image of Christine's smile in his head for the next two hours to come.


	8. Meditations

Most of this chapter is just Spock contemplating his relationship with his daughter and a certian Nurse. Kinda a filler chapter, but I really wanted to have Spock's feelings and junk in here somewhere. Enjoy guise. ^.^

* * *

><p>"He's doing <em>what<em>?"

Christine giggled, watching as Leonard pressed himself against the table that separated them, as if he was trying to break through it. Even the Captain was observing her with incredulity from his little corner in the lab room.

"Are you sure Chris? You left him holding her hand?"

"Yes, Leonard," she repeated, her voice sobering, "He was holding her hand. And he was holding it so I could come down here and help you." She eyed him accusingly. He shied away from her gaze and cleared his throat.

"Yes, I do need your help. I need to make sure that I equate this properly. Jim may be a great Captain, but he's completely useless when it comes to medicine." He glanced over at Kirk, who squirmed in his chair, a blush growing on his cheeks as Christine looked over at him with a small smile.

"Well, then," she grinned, regarding both men, "Let's get to work."

* * *

><p>After Christine left him alone with Sòra, Spock began meditating. It wasn't nearly the same as meditating alone in his room, but he managed to drift in and out while percolating over many subjects. In the beginning, he had contemplated his relationship with Sòra and the realization that her life may come to an end. She was of importance to him, yes. Even on Vulcan children were extremely essential- they carried on the bloodline and they preserved their ancestry. But there was something gnawing at Spock, something that at first he didn't understand. He had never known Sòra, never been there for her. He had, in a sense, abandoned her. His bond with T'Pring was barely even a fledgling and they had made the monumental decision to bear an offspring. And then, after the next eight years, he had forgotten about her.<p>

About his daughter.

T'Pring had sent him a message of Sòra's birth, but he had simply acknowledged it, never responded. After all that time, he'd never made any attempt to go to Vulcan, to see his child or T'Pring.

Until his Pon Farr.

He felt the urge, the deep driving need to go to T'Pring. The fire in his veins burning for her, for her skin against his skin, her touch to cool the flames that was his body. He needed her now. And yet, there was a deep-seated resistance in the back of his still sane mind. The resistance to go to her. He didn't want her, and yet he needed her. The fragile state that he was in brought a vicious flood of emotions to the surface, emotions he couldn't control. Emotions like hatred. Hatred of their arranged marriage, hatred of her cunning, cool persona that left him feeling empty. Void. He didn't want her, he didn't want to be with her. And yet, he was so unwillingly drawn.

The events of those days had been a hazy, burning blur. He could barely recognize people; had to use every ounce of his strength in keeping an impassive, stolid face. To remain logical.

The memories came flooding back during his meditation.

The relief he felt when he was finally greeted by the heat of Vulcan. The Captain and the Doctor, standing close by as T'Pau and T'Pring arrived with their entourage. That man, standing so close to T'Pring. T'Pring stopping the ceremony, ringing the gong. Forcing him to fight. Forcing him to fight _Jim._

Even in his madness, his crazed condition, Spock lost any respect he had managed to keep for T'Pring. He could see Jim in front of him, his fear and confusion so painfully clear. But still Spock fought. Fought with everything he had, everything he had been holding back for a woman who could never show compassion. Fought and killed. Killed the closest thing he had ever had to a friend. The pain that Spock felt when he thought he had murdered Jim was nearly unbearable. It was all he could do to suppress the scream that was boiling in his throat. Any desire to be with T'Pring was completely eradicated. And as Spock said his last words to her before leaving, he could see in her eyes that that had been her plan all along. The rationality that still remained in Spock's mind commandeered T'Pring's unfaltering logic in her motives, but the emotional side that was still raging despised her for it.

Then, so unbelievably, Kirk had come back. Well, technically, he had never left in the first place- never actually died. But still, he was there, smiling back at Spock like nothing had even happened. All of them, Jim, McCoy, Christine, smiling at him, and in that moment, Spock smiled back. Spock smiled with all the happiness he thought he would never have again. He had smiled, been happy, and hadn't even remembered the daughter who was still on the planet below him, who was now without a father or a mother.

And Spock had meditated on Christine. It was strange, her face continuously popping up in his mind, her smile reverberating around his head. He remembered the time that her hair was that bright blonde color, always wrapped tightly around her head. But now, seeing her again, her hair reverted back to its original milky brown state and flowing loosely around her face. It brought strange feelings to Spock.

She had, once, expressed her love for him, telling him that she had pined after him for years.

And that frightened Spock.

Frightened him because for once in his life, he was offered real love. Real compassion. A real person who could accept him for what he was. But he was bonded. He already belonged to someone. And he was a Vulcan. Part of a race that didn't believe or acknowledge that emotions like love existed.

Then again, he was half human. He was capable of giving her feelings back.

No. No, he was a Vulcan. He may have been born a half-breed, but Spock had embraced the Vulcan customs, not the Terran ones. His father had already made the match between he and T'Pring, and now he was bound to that. So Spock declined her offer; turned her down. He could never give her the love that she offered him. And still she had remained kind to him. She never regarded him with a cold demeanor. How could Spock possibly compete with that kind of emotional warmth?

But then, so suddenly, the bond was gone. Broken. T'Pring was no longer his responsibility. He could give Christine a chance.

But, what if she denied him? What if she had forgotten about the love that she had so willingly offered him? He couldn't risk being emotionally damaged again. He had gone through so much pain because of emotions, he couldn't bear to be hurt again. So that's when he decided to leave his human side behind, and remain completely logical. If he was logical, he could not be hurt. If he could not be hurt, his life would be easier.

Spock opened his eyes and stared down at the young girl before him. Sòra still clasped his hand tightly, squeezing every so often out of, what he assumed to be, pain. He estimated that he had been meditating for two hours and thirty-seven minutes. Spock took in a deep breath and watched Sòra breath for a few minutes. How quickly his life changed because of this girl. He needed her to survive. He wasn't sure why there was this uncontrollable desperation for her to keep living, he just knew it existed. This girl was a combination of himself and T'Pring, and T'Pring was someone that he spent years forgetting. Forget T'Pring's cold nature, her deceitfulness, her obvious distaste for him. But yet, here was this girl laying before him, a symbol of their long abandoned bond.

He could not let her die.


	9. For Her

Kirk had been watching his CMO and Head Nurse work for at least two hours. At first, it had been interesting, seeing them shuffle around the lab while muttering medical jargon to each other. It was actually kind of amusing. But then, the real work began, and Kirk could only sit helpless as McCoy and Christine began pulling out various narcotics and test tubes, mixing and measuring and ignoring the world around them. He hadn't bothered to offer help; they would shoot him down anyway. So instead, Kirk watched and waited; checking on the bridge every so often.

"Steady, Leonard," Christine scolded. McCoy scoffed in return but steadied his hand. Kirk glanced up from his corner in the room to see his two companions hunched over a small, bubbling beaker that was halfway full with a liquidy green fluid. Kirk watched attentively as McCoy poured the last of a thick, blue substance in with the already frothing concoction.

The reaction was instantaneous.

The two fluids merged together in a fit of fizzing and violent thrashing. McCoy and Christine jumped back in surprise, and Kirk jumped up from his chair. Almost as quickly as it had happened, the bubbling stopped, and in its place was a thick, calm, blueish-green mixture. McCoy raised a thick eyebrow, and stooped over the beaker. Kirk walked over to the table and watched carefully as McCoy held the glass up towards the light, it's contents gliding slowly over the smooth surface.

A huge grin swallowed up McCoy's face. With a small whoop, he sat the beaker back down and twirled around to Christine, who had a small smile on her face too. He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her into the air, twirling her in a large circle, much to her embarrassed delight. Their laughter was overly sonorous compared to the previous quiet that once settled in the room. Kirk watched them with amusement until McCoy finally set his nurse down.

"I'm assuming you made the antidote," he said lightly. McCoy swerved around the table to come face to face with his Captain, a twinkle in his eyes.

"You're damn right we did," he grinned, slapping Kirk playfully on his upper arm. Kirk let his small, contained smile grow into an ecstatic one, pulling his friend into a bear hug. McCoy let out a huff of surprised indignation, but clasped his hands around Kirk's shoulders.

"I knew the both of you could do it," Kirk said, creating distance between him and McCoy.

"I couldn't do it without Chris," McCoy smiled as Christine walked up next to him. "Your notes helped saved a life, my dear." Christine's smile grew at McCoy's praise, and she pulled down her uniform proudly.

"I did it for her," she said quietly, staring at her fellow officers. "And for Spock. He needs her more than he realizes." McCoy and Kirk found themselves sobered at her words, the seriousness of their situation barreling back into place. Kirk shook his head tightly, and McCoy followed his lead, marching back to the opposite side of the large lab table to grab two hypo's.

"This antidote should be perfect," he said, injecting the said medicine into one hypo, "I'll administer it to Sòra first, then to Spock- just to be safe. Sòra did talk about parents contracting diseases after holding them for too long." Both Christine and Kirk nodded again, waiting patiently as McCoy filled the other needle. He held both hypo's up to the light, much like he did with the beaker, and gently flicked on the glass, settling the thick liquid inside. McCoy watched the blue-green fluid glitter in the light of the bright lab bulbs, turned his eyes to his waiting companions, and said, "For them."

* * *

><p>Her breathing was getting worse, Spock noted. He had been sitting with Sòra for some time, alternating between meditation and simply watching her. She began perspiring more; the cool cloth that Christine had been using now laying abandoned in the sink. Every so often, she would squeeze Spock's hand vehemently, as if expressing her pain to him.<p>

Spock couldn't help but wince, her ferocious grip and obvious discomfort burdening him.

He reached up and brushed a soaked strand of hair from her eyes. She lifted her chin up at his touch, whimpering slightly as his fingers receded. He was intrigued by her actions, finding her seemingly emotional reaction to his hand across her brow fascinating. She gripped his hand again, her broken fingernails digging into his skin. Spock's eye twitched, and his mind whirred with the logical response to her actions.

He squeezed back.

He squeezed her hand with all the force he could muster, releasing all the confused, nauseous emotions that were swimming in his body. He squeezed her hand like it was the only way to protect her, to keep her safe from the virulent disease in her small, gentle frame.

And, to Spock's controlled surprise, she responded. She tugged at his hand a little harder, and then relaxed under his pressure, her face slipping into a state of somewhat peace.

Absolutely fascinating.

He stared down into his daughter's face, slackening his grip as he heard distant footsteps. He turned his head, eyebrow already raised, as Kirk, McCoy, and Christine entered the room. McCoy seemed to stumble a bit as he happened upon the scene.

"Well I'll be," he muttered, looking at the two Vulcan's clasping hands. "I didn't really believe you, Chris." He let out a little snigger, and walked closer to Sòra's bedside.

"Something you find amusing, Doctor?" Spock asked, watching as the trio proceeded closer to him; McCoy leading, Kirk following, and Christine bringing up the rear, her eyes never leaving Sòra.

"It's nothing, Spock," McCoy said, shrugging his shoulders, "just something I'd never think I'd see." Christine let out a huff and marched past the two men in front of her, coming up behind Spock and placing her hand on top of his own.

"This is not the time, nor the place, Leonard," she said, unaware of the looks of shock she was receiving from her boss and her Captain, as well as the infinitesimal look of bewilderment that was emanating from Spock. Her hand was soft and velvety, a slight warmth radiating from it. Spock felt the tingling travel up his arm, settling in an uncomfortably pleasant spot in his stomach.

"We have work to do here, boys," she said again, her professionalism shining through. She faced Spock directly, her hand still on top of his. "Now, Spock, take your hand out." At once her motives shined through to the once confused Vulcan, though his human counterparts still remained in the dark. With some effort, Spock ripped his hand free from Sòra's grip. Sòra reenacted her movements from earlier, grabbing at something to comfort her, which was luckily Christine's warm palm. Christine sat down in the seat Spock once occupied and gritted her teeth against the grip at which Sòra was holding her hand. Spock was standing over Christine and his daughter, rubbing his hand absentmindedly where the tingling still remained.

McCoy let out a sound of realization, and walked to the opposite side of Sòra's bed, setting one needle down and preparing the other.

"Always there for emotional support, eh Chris?" he said conversationally, watching his patient and his nurse out of the corner of his eyes. Christine managed to give him a smile, struggling to hide the extreme pain that was threatening her hand. Sòra's grip was intense.

"After the antidote is administered, Spock will be needed elsewhere. He can't stay down here holding Sòra's hand all day, can he?" she responded, forcing her voice to stay light. "It seemed the logical thing to do." She giggled despite herself, and Kirk and McCoy joined her. Spock felt his lips tug up again at her blatant joke, and pushed his weary mind to control his loose emotions. He didn't want to be exposed.

"Please, Doctor," he said calmly, "can you continue?" McCoy nodded, his face set in steely determination, and gently pushed the needle into Sòra's twitching arm. He injected the liquid quickly, the only sound in the tension filled room being the hiss of the cap. Sòra let out a grunt and stiffened her body, forcing Christine to twitch as well.

The whole room watched as Sòra shifted under her sheets, her eyebrows furrowing deeper together. She let out another soft cry, and closed her hand around Christine's so forcefully that Christine couldn't hold back a small gasp as she heard a bone snap. Spock looked down at her when his Vulcan ears detected the subtle cracking noise of a bone, while the other two gentlemen remained oblivious. He glanced back down at Sòra when he saw her go slack, her body entering a deep slumber and her grip loosening on Christine's hand. Kirk rushed forward, thinking the worst, but McCoy shot his arm out to stop him.  
>"She's just asleep, Jim," he said slowly. His face lifted into a small smile, "It worked."<p>

"Of course it did," Christine murmured, rubbing her now released hand, holding back tears as she located the break between her second and third knuckles. "We never would've given up on her." McCoy's smile grew, and he walked over to Christine, who immediately hid her hands behind her back.

"And _you _never did," he said, grabbing her shoulder lightly. "I'm proud of everything you've done, Chris." She gave him a large, genuine smile, and resisted the temptation to hug him- the main reason being her broken hand. Before she had a chance to thank him, he gave her a light squeeze and turned away, back to Kirk, grabbing him by the elbow and taking him back to his office.

"C'mon Jim, you can help me with the report," he said, "Christine, stay here with Sòra for awhile; make sure she remains stable. Doesn't hurt to be safe." He looked over at Spock, who stood motionless next to his daughter's bed, and said, "Spock, you can be discharged as soon as Chris administers your hypo. But," he paused, looking down at Sòra, "I'll allow as much time as you need." Spock nodded knowingly.

McCoy and Kirk left Christine and Spock alone, entering the Doctor's office.

"What was that for, Bones?" Kirk asked as the door closed, separating the group from each other. McCoy sat down in his chair, letting out a long sigh.

"Well, Spock does need his dose, Jim," McCoy stated, looking back up at his Captain's eyes. "And he does deserve to spend some time with his daughter."

"But why am _I _in here?" Jim asked, staring hardly at McCoy.

"Because Spock deserves to spend some time with Christine too." Kirk took a seat across from McCoy, his eyes widened in surprise.

"Christine?"

McCoy sniggered.

"Yes, Christine. He enjoys her company, Jim. I can see that. A little time with her and Sòra would do him some good. He's looking pretty haggard."

"He does look worn out," Kirk agreed, though he was still trying to wrap his head around Spock and Christine... together.

"Just give him some time, Jim," McCoy said again, pulling out a bottle of whiskey from his drawer, seeming to forget the report he claimed needed to be done. "Those two girls in there will do Spock a world of good."

* * *

><p>Christine's hand was throbbing, growing redder with each passing moment. She cradled it gently in her other hand, moving over to the cabinets to grab gauze and an anti-inflammatory.<p>

"I do hope your hand is alright, Christine."

Christine peeked over her shoulder to see Spock staring at her.

"It'll be fine," she smiled at him, scuffling through the cabinets in her search.

"She does have a very strong grip," he continued, moving closer towards her. She snorted in agreement, her search proving fruitless.

"I express my apologies, Christine," he said softly, now right next to her, "It seems I was the only one who noticed your injury."

"I kinda noticed it too, Spock," Christine murmured, pushing back a bundle of paper towels, not noticing the amused glint in Spock's eyes.

"I'm quite sure that the Doctor and the Captain would be extremely concerned if they knew," he said, watching her good hand shuffle through toiletries and medical equipment.

"They would be, but it'll be fine in a few weeks," Christine said nonchalantly. "Besides, a little broken bone is worth Sòra's well-being." She unwittingly raised her broken hand and slammed the door shut in anger, instantly regretting it. Christine swallowed back bile as the constant throbbing within her hand erupting into white-hot pain. She let out a strangled sob as the searing continued up into her arm, overwhelming her nerve receptors to the point where she started seeing dots in front of her vision. Christine felt herself slip backwards, and almost began welcoming the impeding unconsciousness with open arms until she felt a warm hand on her elbow. It pulled her back up, away from the ground, and closer towards something.

Or someone.

Her eyes flickered back open to see Spock staring at her, one hand wrapped around her waist, one hand grasping her good arm, and his eyes uncharacteristically fogged with worry. Without thinking about the consequences, Christine laid her head on Spock's chest, letting out a deep breath.

Spock stiffened at the contact, unsure of what to do. But when he heard her release a sigh, he instantly relaxed, her breath leaving a little hot patch on his uniform.

"Thank you, Spock," she whispered, forcing the tears from her eyes. She shifted her feet, regaining her own balance, though Spock never dropped his hands.

"It would be quite rude to let you fall, Christine," he said softly. She rose her head to meet Spock's eyes, the smallest of smiles playing on her lips.

"Always being a gentlemen, eh Spock?" she said lightly, stepping slightly away from Spock's grasp. His hands fell away almost unwillingly.

Spock stared at her, his brows furrowed, and pointed to his daughter's bedside.

"Sit, Christine," he commanded. "You have done enough for my daughter and I; it is time I return the favor." For a moment, Christine thought about standing her ground, but the pulsating in her hand convinced her to reconsider. She stumbled over to Sòra's bed, and carefully sat on the edge next to the young girl's feet. Sòra was breathing heavily, but softly, as if taking her first breathes. Her body was no longer rigid, and her face seemed clean and almost peaceful.

Christine's heart swelled.

Spock moved on to the drawers, shuffling through them until his hand wrapped around the gauze. He moved back over to Christine, whose eyes were focused on his daughter. Spock pulled up a chair and placed it in front of her, and sat down, unwrapping the gauze in his lap. Christine didn't shift her vision, but listened to his movements.

Spock watched Christine openly, studying her. Her eyes were glazed over with something; happiness?, but her body remained stiff with pain. Spock reached out and pulled her broken hand to him, putting as much gentleness into his actions as possible. Nonetheless, she winced. He turned her palm up and pushed his fingers into certain points, trying to discern the exact break.

"Be careful, Spock," she breathed, her attention now fully on him. He didn't acknowledge her, but he moved slower across her hand. When he received no reaction, her turned her hand again, and tenderly placed his fingers between her second and third knuckles.

Just as he suspected, she winced, obviously trying to hold back a cry. He looked back up at her, and she nodded her head.

"I'll apply the bandage as softly as I can, Christine," he said seriously. "I cannot, however, guarantee that it will be painless."

"I'm a nurse, Spock," she replied, just as serious. "I can handle a little break."

"This hardly seems like a 'little break'," Spock said as he began to wrap the gauze between her middle and ring fingers. "I estimate that at least three bones are broken." Christine gave a little scoff, but it turned into a half-grimace when Spock passed over the spot once more.

"They'll heal, Spock," she said, her voice mixed with exasperation and fatigue. They sat for a moment in silence as Spock dressed her injury, twisting the bandage around her hand until her fingers were separated by the thick gauze. He finished by putting a single silver clasp on the fabric, and sat back in his chair as Christine took her hand in the other, examining his work.

Flawless, like always.

She looked up to see him staring intently at her, and felt her stomach clench. His gaze was always so piercing, like he was reading your mind. And, Christine realized, he probably could. She breathed out of her nose to calm her nerves, and gave him a small smile.

"Perfect, Spock," she smiled, flexing her fingers. She held up her swathed hand to him, and began giggling in amused surprise.

Spock raised his eyebrow at her, and then noticed, with some amusement of his own, that because of the thick gauze between her fingers, her hand was in the perfect position of the Vulcan salute.

"Live long and prosper, Spock," she said, her eyebrows furrowed in mock sobriety. He clenched his jaw tighter to prevent a smile, and raised his hand as well, fingers flawlessly performing the sign.

"Live long and prosper, Christine."

She let out another giggle, and lowered her hand, resting it in her lap. Spock lowered his hand as well, and for a moment, the two simply sat in silence, until Spock spoke:

"I must thank you again, Christine," he said quietly. "It is because of you that my daughter shall live."

"Which reminds me, Spock," Christine said as she jumped off of the bedside, "you still need your vaccine too. Just to be safe." She walked over to the small side table and picked up the hypo, its contents swirling softly inside.

"After you get your dose," she continued, walking back over to him, "and Leonard finishes his report, we'll contact Starfleet and the Vulcan Science Academy with our formula." She pressed the hypo into his arm. "Then, the vaccine can be administered to the rest of Vulcan. After that, P.D. will no longer be a problem." The needle let out a hiss, and she removed it with a smile.

"I'm sure all of Vulcan would be in your debt, Christine," Spock said as Christine laid the empty hypo back down on the table. "You were the one who invented the cure, after all." Christine could feel a blush blossom unwanted on her cheeks.

"You keep mentioning that, Spock," she said quietly, fiddling with her hand-made cast.

"It's true, is it not?" he replied, watching her curiously.

"I suppose, yes," Christine said, sitting down into another empty chair next to Sòra's bed.

"Why do you shy away from the recognition, then?" Spock asked, and Christine could practically see the gears in his mind whirring.

"People find cures to diseases all the time, Spock," Christine began. "Polio, smallpox, hell, I'm sure sooner or later someone will find a cure to the common cold. It just so happens that I did my part with P.D." She paused. "I didn't do it for recognition," she said again, this time quieter. "I didn't do it for Starfleet or for Vulcan." Spock raised his eyebrow, obviously intrigued.

"Then for whom did you do it?" he asked, though he was sure he already knew the answer.

"I did it for her."


End file.
